Arthur  Colton 


CHAUNCEY  WETMORE  WELLS 

1872-1933 


This  book  belonged  to  Chauncey  Wetmore  Wells.  He  taught  in 
Yale  College,  of  which  he  was  a  graduate,  from  1897  to  1901,  and 
from  1901  to  1933  at  this  University. 

Chauncey  Wells  was,  essentially,  a  scholar.  The  range  of  his  read 
ing  was  wide,  the  breadth  of  his  literary  sympathy  as  uncommon 
as  the  breadth  of  his  human  sympathy.  He  was  less  concerned 
with  the  collection  of  facts  than  with  meditation  upon  their  sig 
nificance.  His  distinctive  power  lay  in  his  ability  to  give  to  his 
students  a  subtle  perception  of  the  inner  implications  of  form, 
of  manners,  of  taste,  of  the  really  disciplined  and  discriminating 
mind.  And  this  perception  appeared  not  only  in  his  thinking  and 
teaching  but  also  in  all  his  relations  with  books  and  with  men. 


Two  noteworthy  books  by  Arthur  Cohen 


Port   Argent 


i2mo.     $1.50 

A  romance  of  a  few  weeks  in  an  Ohio  city  "with 
growing  pains." 

"A  story  of  breathless  events  and  of  remarkable 
concentration."— Critic. 

"In  its  power  to  give  this  'feel'  of  life— of  insta 
bility  yet  of  permanence,  of  divinity  allied  to  dust — 
the  book  has  a  peculiar  charm.  .  .  .  Mr.  Colton  is  a 
man  with  a  faculty  for  cramming  his  phrases  full  of 
meaning,  and  with  a  keen  perception  for  the  hurry 
ing,  telling  life-current  seething  below  the  unreveal- 
ing  surface  of  the  commonplace.  "—Literary  Digest. 

"  Mr.  Colton's  work  is  particularly  worthy  of  praise." 
—Bookman. 

"  Arthur  Colton  is  a  writer  with  a  remarkably  indi 
vidual  outlook." — Life. 

"  Vivid,  .  .  .  somewhat  intense,  not  to  say  tragic, 
...  a  good  story."— N.  Y.  J^tmes  Saturday  Review. 

11  A  quiet  story  told  with  such  restraint  that  it  is 
only  after  laying  down  the  volume  that  one  realizes 
the  bigness  of  the  problems  presented,  its  breadth  and 
richness  of  thought,  and  the  power  of  its  action." — 
San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"A  novel  which  has  a  fine  literary  flavor  and  un 
usual  analytic  depth.  .  .  .  The  book  is  compelling 
and  has  an  extraordinary  understanding  of  social  dy 
namics."—  Chicago  Record- Herald. 


Tioba 

i2mo.     $1.25 


Mr.  Colton  here  depicts  a  gallery  of  very  varied 
Americans.  Tioba  was  a  mountain  which  meant  well 
but  was  mistaken. 

"He  is  always  the  artist  observer,  adding  stroke 
upon  stroke  with  the  surest  of  sure  pens,  ...  an 
author  who  recalls  the  old  traditions  that  there  were 
once  such  things  as  good  writing  and  good  story-tell 
ing." — Bookman. 

"  He  has  originality,  feeling,  humor."— Lamp. 


Henry    Holt    and    Company 

Publishers  New  York 


The  Belted  Seas 


BY 

ARTHUR    COLTON 


NEW   YORK 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1905 


COPYRIGHT,  1905 

BY 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Published  March, 


IN  MEWR1AM 


THE  MERSHON  COMPANY  PRESS, 
RAHWAY,   N.   J. 


To 
C.  R.  R. 


8G3765 


Cold  are  the  feet  and  forehead  of  the  earth, 
Temperate  his  bosom  and  his  knees, 

But  huge  and  hot  the  midriff  of  his  girth, 
Where  heaves  the  laughter  of  the  belted  seas, 

Where  rolls  the  heavy  thunder  of  his  mirth 
Around  the  still  unstirred  Hesperides. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     PEMBERTON'S     ...  j 

II.     THE  "  HEBE  MAITLAND  IO 

III.  THE  HOTEL  HELEN  MAR          ...  34 

IV.  SADLER  IN  PORTATE         ....  49 
V.     END  OF  THE  HOTEL  HELEN  MAR   .        .  75 

VI.     TORRE  ANANIAS.     WHY   CAPTAIN  BUCK 
INGHAM  DID  NOT  Go  BACK  TO  GREEN- 


VII.       LlEECHEN  AND  THE  EwiGWEIBLICHE.    THE 

Loss  OF  THE  "ANACONDA"          .        .  I2i 
VIII.     SADLER    IN    SALERATUS.      THE     GREEN 

DRAGON  PAGODA I4r 

IX.     KING  JULIUS l62 

X.     THE   KIYI   PROPOSITION.     SADLER  CON 
CLUDED           ....  203 
XI.     THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  " VOODOO"            .  219 
XII.     THE  FLANNAGAN  AND  IMPERIAL      .        .  2-8 
XIII.     FLANNAGAN  AND  STEVEY  TODD.    CAPTAIN 

BUCKINGHAM  RETURNS  TO  GREENOUGH  262 


viii  Contents 


CHAPTER    N  PAGE 

XIV.     CAPTAIN   BUCKINGHAM  VISITS  THE  CEME 
TERY  IN  ADRIAN.    ANDREW  AND  MADGE 

McCuLLOCH  AND  BlLLY  CORLISS.      CAP 
TAIN  BUCKINGHAM'S  NARRATIVE  ENDS    284 
XV.     THE  CONCLUSION  OF  THE  WHOLE    .        .     298 


THE    BELTED    SEAS 


T 


CHAPTER    I 

pembetton's 

HE  clock  struck  one.  It  was  the  tall 
standing  clock  in  the  front  room  of 
Pemberton's  Hotel,  and  Pemberton's  stands 
by  the  highway  that  runs  by  the  coast  of 
Long  Island  Sound.  It  is  near  the  west 
ern  edge  of  the  village  of  Greenough,  the 
gilt  cupola  of  whose  eminent  steeple  is  noted 
by  far-passing  ships.  On  the  beach  are 
flimsy  summer  cottages,  and  hard  beside 
them  is  the  old  harbour,  guarded  by  its 
stone  pier.  Whalers  and  merchantmen  used 
to  tie  up  there  a  hundred  years  ago,  where 
now  only  fishing  boats  come.  The  village 
lies  back  from  the  shore,  and  has  three 
divisions,  Newport  Street,  the  Green,  and 


— , 


Pemberton's 


the  West  End ;  of  which  the  first  is  a  broad 
street  with  double  roads,  and  there  are  the 
post  office  and  the  stores ;  the  second  boasts 
of  its  gilt-cupolaed  church ;  the  third  has  the 
two  distinctions  of  the  cemetery  and  Pem 
berton's. 

The  hotel  is  not  so  far  from  the  beach 
but  you  can  sit  in  the  front  room  and  hear 
the  surf.  It  was  a  small  hotel  when  I  used 
to  frequent  it,  and  was  kept  by  Pemberton 
himself — gone,  now,  alas!  with  his  vener 
able  dusty  hair  and  red  face,  imperturbably 
amiable.  He  was  no  seaman.  Throughout 
his  long  life  he  had  anchored  to  his  own 
chimneyside,  which  was  a  solid  and  steady 
chimney,  whose  red-brick  complexion  re 
sembled  its  owner's.  His  wife  was  dead, 
and  he  ran  the  hotel  much  alone,  except  for 
the  company  of  Uncle  Abimelech,  Captain 
Buckingham,  Stevey  Todd,  and  such  others 
as  came  and  went,  or  townsfolk  who  liked 
the  anchorage.  But  the  three  I  have  named 
were  seamen,  and  I  always  found  them  by 


Pemberton's 


Pemberton's  chimney.  Abe  Dalrimple,  or 
Uncle  Abe,  was  near  Pemberton's  age,  and 
had  lived  with  him  for  years;  but  Stevey 
Todd  and  Captain  B.  were  younger,  and,  as 
I  gathered,  they  had  been  with  Pemberton 
only  for  some  months  past,  the  captain 
boarding,  and  Stevey  Todd  maybe  boarding 
as  well;  I  don't  know;  but  I  know  Stevey 
Todd  did  some  of  the  cooking,  and  had 
been  a  ship's  cook  the  main  part  of  his  life. 
It  seemed  to  me  they  acted  like  a  settled 
family  among  them  anyway. 

Captain  Thomas  Buckingham  was  a 
smallish  man  of  fifty,  with  a  bronzed  face, 
or  you  might  say  iron,  with  respect  to  its 
rusty  colour,  and  also  it  was  dark  and  immo 
bile.  But  now  and  then  there  would  come  a 
glimmer  and  twist  in  his  eyes,  sometimes  he 
would  start  in  talking  and  flow  on  like  a 
river,  calm,  sober,  and  untiring,  and  yet 
again  he  would  be  silent  for  hours.  Some 
might  have  thought  him  melancholy,  for  his 
manner  was  of  the  gravest 


Pemberton's 


We  were  speaking  of  hotels,  that  stormy 
afternoon  when  the  distant  surf  was  moan 
ing  and  the  wind  heaping  the  snow  against 
the  doors,  and  when  the  clock  had  struck,  he 
said  slowly: 

"  I  kept  a  hotel  once.  It  was  in  '72  or  a 
bit  before.  It's  a  good  trade." 

And  none  of  us  disputed  it  was  a  good 
trade,  as  keeping  a  man  indoors  in  stormy 
weather. 

"Was  it  like  Pemberton's?" 

"  No,  not  like  Pemberton's." 

"Seaside?" 

"  No,  inland  a  bit." 

"Summer  hotel?" 

"  Aye,  summer  hotel.  Always  summer 
there." 

"  It  must  have  paid !  " 

"  Aye,  she  paid.     It  was  in  South  Am 


erica." 


"South  America?" 

"  Aye,  Stevey  Todd  and  I  ran  her.     She 
was  put  up  in  New  Bedford  by  Smith  and 


Pemberton's 


Morgan,  and  Stevey  Todd  and  I  ran  her  in 
South  America." 

"  How  so?  Do  they  export  hotels  to 
South  America?  " 

"  There  ain't  any  steady  trade  in  'em." 
And  no  more  would  he  say  just  then.  For 
he  was  that  kind  of  a  man,  Captain  Tom, 
He  would  talk  or  he  would  not,  as  suited 
him. 

Uncle  Abimelech  was  tall  and  old,  and 
had  a  long  white  beard,  and  was  thin  in  the 
legs,  not  to  say  uncertain  on  them,  and  he 
appeared  to  wander  in  his  mind  as  well  as  in 
his  legs.  Stevey  Todd  was  stout,  with  a 
smooth,  fair  face,  and  in  temperament  fond 
of  arguing,  though  cautious  about  it.  For 
that  winter  afternoon,  when  I  remarked, 
hearing  the  whistling  wind  and  the  thunder 
of  the  surf,  "  It  blows  hard,  Mr.  Todd," 
Stevey  Todd  answered  cautiously,  "  If  you 
called  it  brisk,  I  wouldn't  maybe  argue  it, 
but  '  hard '  I'd  argue,"  and  Pemberton  said 
agreeably,  "  Why,  when  you  put  it  that  way, 


Pemberton's 


you're  right,  not  but  the  meaning  was  good, 
ain't  a  doubt  of  it ; "  and  Uncle  Abimelech, 
getting  hold  of  a  loose  end  in  his  mind, 
piped  up,  singing: 

"  She  blows  aloft,  she  blows  alow, 
Take  in  your  topsails  early ; " 

whereas  there  was  no  doubt  at  all  about  its 
blowing  hard.  But  Stevey  Todd  was  the 
kind  of  a  man  that  liked  to  argue  in  good 
order. 

The  meanwhile  Captain  Buckingham  had 
said  nothing  so  far  that  afternoon,  except 
on  the  subject  of  hotel-keeping  in  South 
America.  But  when  Stevey  Todd  offered 
to  admit  that  it  blew  "  brisk,  but  when  you 
say  hard,  I  argue  it;"  and  when  Uncle 
Abimelech  piped  : 

"  She  blows  aloft,  she  blows  alow, 
Take  in  your  topsails  early  ; " 

then  Captain  Buckingham,  who  sat  leaning 
forward  smoking,  with  his  elbows  on  his 
knees,  staring  at  the  fire,  at  last,  without 
stirring  in  his  chair,  he  spoke  up,  and  said, 


Pemberton's 


"  She  blows  all  right/'  and  we  waited,  think 
ing  he  might  say  more. 

"  Pemberton,"  he  went  on,  "  the  seaman 
follows  his  profit  and  luck  around  the  world. 
You  sit  by  your  chimney  and  they  come  to 
you.  And  if  I  was  doing  it  again,  or  my 
old  ship,  the  Annalee,  was  to  come  banging 
and  bouncing  at  this  door,  saying  '  Have  a 
cruise,  Captain  Buckingham ;  rise  up ! '  I'd 
say:  *  You  go  dock  yourself." 

"  She  might,  if  she  came  overland, 
maybe,"  said  Stevey  Todd,  "  seeing  it  blows 
brisk,  which  I  admits  and  I  stands  by,  for 
she  was  a  tall  sailing  ship  was  the  Anna- 
lee." 

"  She  was  that,"  said  Captain  Tom;  "  the 
best  ship  I  ever  sailed  in,  barring  the  Hebe 
Maitland" 

Whereat  Stevey  Todd  said,  ff  There  was 
a  ship !  "  and  Uncle  Abimelech  piped  up 
again,  singing  these  singular  words: 

"  There  was  a  ship 
In  Bailey's  Slip. 


8  Pemberton's 

One  evil  day 

We  sailed  away 

From  Bailey's  Slip 

We  sailed  away,  with  Captain  Clyde, 

An  old,  old  man  with  a  copper  hide, 

In  the  Hebe  Maitland  sailed,  Hooroar  ! 

And  fetched  the  coast  of  Ecuador." 

"  Aye/'  said  Captain  Tom.  "  Those  were 
Kid  Sadler's  verses.  There's  many  of  'em 
that  Abe  can  say  over,  and  he  can  glue  a  tune 
to  'em  well,  for  he's  got  that  kind  of  a  mem 
ory  that's  loose,  but  stringy  and  long,  and  he 
always  had.  There's  only  Abe  and  Stevey 
Todd  and  me  left  of  the  Hebe  Maitland' s 
crew,  unless  Sadler  and  Little  Irish  maybe, 
for  I  left  them  in  Burmah,  and  they  may  be 
there.  But  what  I  was  going  to  say,  Pem- 
berton,  is,  I  made  a  mistake  somewhere." 

"  Why,"  said  Pemberton,  "  there  you  may 
be  right." 

"  For  I  was  that  kind  of  young  one,"  the 
captain  went  on,  "  which  if  he's  blown  up 
with  dynamite,  he  comes  down  remarking 
it's  breezy  up  there.  I  was  that  careless." 

Then  we  drew  nearer  and  knew  that  Cap- 


Pemberton's 


tain  Buckingham  was  hauling  up  his  anchor, 
and  maybe  would  take  us  on  a  long  way, 
which  he  surely  did.  The  afternoon  slipped 
on,  hour  by  hour,  and  the  fire  snapped  and 
cast  its  red  light  in  our  faces,  and  the  kettle 
sung  and  the  storm  outside  kept  up  its  mad 
business,  and  the  surf  its  monotone. 

"  I  was  so,  when  I  was  a  lad  of  eighteen 
or  nineteen,"  Captain  Buckingham  said.  "  I 
was  a  wild  one,  though  not  large,  but  limber 
and  clipper-built,  and  happy  any  side  up,  and 
my  notion  of  human  life  was  that  it  was 
something  like  a  cake-walk,  and  something 
like  a  Bartlett  pear,  as  being  juicy  anywhere 
you  bit  in." 


CHAPTER  II 

"Debe   fl&aWanfc."    Captain 
barn's  "Narrative 

"  T  WAS  that  way,"  he  said,  "full  of 
JL  opinions,  like  one  of  those  little  ter 
rier  pups  with  his  tail  sawed  off,  so  he 
wags  with  the  stump,  same  way  a  clock  does 
with  the  pendulum  when  the  weight's  gone 
— pretty  chipper.  I  used  to  come  often  from 
the  other  end  of  Newport  Street,  where  I 
was  born,  to  Pemberton's.  But  that  wasn't 
on  account  of  Pemberton,  though  he  was 
agreeable,  but  on  account  of  Madge  Pember- 
ton.  Madge  and  I  were  agreed,  and  Pem- 
berton  was  agreeable,  but  I  was  restless  and 
keyed  high  in  those  days,  resembling  pups, 
as  stated. 

"  No  anchoring  to  Pemberton's  chimney 
for  me,"  I  says.  "  No  digging  clams  and 
fishing  for  small  fry  in  Long  Island  Sound 
for  me.  I'm  going  to  sea." 

IO 


The  "Hebe  Mainland"         1 1 

And  Madge  asks,  "Why?"  calm  and 
reasonable,  and  I  was  near  stumped  for  rea 
sons,  having  only  the  same  reason  as  a  lob 
ster  has  for  being  green.  It's  the  nature  of 
him,  which  he'll  change  that  colour  when 
he's  had  experience  and  learned  what's  what 
in  the  boiling.  I  fished  around  for  reasons. 

"  When  I'm  rich/'  I  says,  "  I'll  fix  up 
Pemberton's  for  a  swell  hotel." 

Madge  says,  "  It's  nice  as  it  is,"  and  acted 
low  in  her  mind.  But  if  she  thought  the 
less  of  me  for  wanting  to  go  to  sea,  I  couldn't 
say.  Maybe  not. 

I  left  Greenough  in  the  year  '65,  and  went 
to  New  York,  and  the  wharves  and  ships 
of  East  River,  and  didn't  expect  it  would 
take  me  long  to  get  rich. 

There  were  fine  ships  and  many  in  those 
days  in  the  East  River  slips.  South  Street 
was  full  of  folk  from  all  over  the  world,  but 
I  walked  there  as  cocky  as  if  I  owned  it, 
looking  for  a  ship  that  pleased  me,  and  I 
came  to  one  lying  at  dock  with  the  name 


12         The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

Hebe  Maitland  in  gilt  letters  on  a  board  that 
was  screwed  to  her,  and  I  says,  "  Now, 
there's  a  ship !  "  Then  I  heard  a  man  speak 
up  beside  me  saying,  "  Just  so/'  and  I  turned 
to  look  at  him. 

He  didn't  seem  like  a  seaman,  but  was 
an  old  man,  and  grave-looking,  and  small, 
and  precise  in  manner,  and  not  like  one 
trained  to  the  sea,  and  wore  a  long,  rusty 
black  coat,  and  his  upper  lip  was  shaven. 

"  You  like  her,  do  ye?  "  he  said.  "  Now 
I'm  thinking  you  know  a  good  one  when  you 
see  her." 

I  said  I  thought  I  did,  speaking  rather 
knowing.  But  when  he  asked  if  I'd  been 
to  sea,  I  had  to  say  I  hadn't ;  not  on  the  high 
seas,  nor  in  any  such  vessel  as  the  Hebe  Mait 
land.  She  was  painted  dingy  black,  like 
most  of  the  others,  and  I  judged  from  her 
lines  that  she  was  a  fleet  sailer  and  built 
for  that  purpose,  rather  than  for  the  amount 
of  cargo  she  might  carry. 

"  Why,  come  aboard,"  he  said,  and  soon 


The  "Hebe  Mainland"         13 

we  were  seated  in  a  cabin  with  shiny 
panels,  and  a  hinge  table  that  swung  down 
from  the  wall  between  us.  He  looked  at 
me  through  half-shut  eyes,  pursing  his 
dry  lips,  and  he  asked  me  where  I  came 
from. 

That  was  my  first  meeting  with  Clyde. 
I  know  now  that  my  coming  from  Connecti 
cut  was  a  point  in  my  favour;  still  I  judge 
he  must  have  taken  to  me  from  the  start. 
He  surely  was  good  to  me  always,  and  that 
curiously. 

"  You  want  a  job,"  he  says.  "  You've 
sailed  a  bit  on  fishing  smacks  in  the  Sound. 
But  more'n  that,  the  point  with  you  is  you're 
ambitious,  and  not  above  turning  a  penny  or 
two  in  an  odd  way." 

"  That  depends  on  the  way,"  I  says  pretty 
uppish,  and  thinking  I  wasn't  to  be  inveigled 
into  piracy  that  way. 

"Just  so?" 

"  Maybe  I've  got  scruples,"  I  says,  and 
not  a  bit  did  I  know  what  I  was  talking 


14        The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

about.  Captain  Clyde  rapped  the  table  with 
his  knuckles. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  it.  Scruples ! 
That's  the  word,  and  a  right  word  and  a 
good  word.  I  don't  allow  any  vicious  go 
ings-on  aboard  this  ship.  Wherever  we  go 
we  carry  the  laws  of  the  United  States,  and 
we  stand  by  them  laws.  We're  decent  and 
we  stick  to  our  country's  laws  as  duty  is. 
Why  now,  I'm  thinking  of  taking  you,  for 
I  see  you're  a  likely  lad,  and  one  that  will 
argue  for  his  principles.  Good  wages,  good 
food,  good  treatment;  will  you  go?"  The 
last  was  shot  out  and  cut  off  close  behind,  his 
lips  shutting  like  a  pair  of  scissors.  I  says, 
M  That's  what  I'll  do,"  and  didn't  know  there 
was  anything  odd  about  it.  It  might  have 
been  the  average  way  a  shipmaster  picked 
up  a  man  for  aught  I  knew.  I  shipped  on 
the  bark  Hebe  Maitland  as  ordinary  sea 
man. 

The  shipping  news  of  that  week  con 
tained  this  item : 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         15 

"  Sailed,  Bark,  Hebe  Maitland,  Clyde, 
Merchandise  for  Porto  del  Rey." 

Now,  there  is  such  a  place  as  Porto  del 
Rey,  for  I  was  there  once,  but  not  till  twenty 
years  later. 

The  Hebe  Maitland  didn't  always  go  to 
the  place  she  was  billed  for,  and  when  she 
did  she  was  apt  to  be  a  month  late,  and 
likely  couldn't  have  told  what  she'd  been 
doing  in  the  meantime.  Somebody  had 
been  doing  something,  but  it  wasn't  the  Hebe 
Maitland.  Ships  may  have  notions  for 
aught  I  know,  and  the  Hebe  Maitland  was 
no  fool,  but  if  so,  I  judge  she  couldn't  have 
straightened  it  out  without  help;  and  if  she 
argued  and  got  mad  about  it,  that  was  no 
more  than  appropriate,  for  we  all  argued 
on  the  Hebe  Maitland. 

I've  spoken  of  Captain  Clyde.  The  crew, 
except  one  man  called  "  Irish,"  were  all 
Yankee  folk  that  Clyde  had  trained,  and 
most  of  them  had  been  caught  young  and 
sailed  with  him  already  some  years.  I  never 


1 6         The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

saw  so  odd  an  acting  crew  in  the  way  of 
arguing.  I've  seen  Clyde  and  the  bos'n  with 
the  Bible  between  them,  arguing  over  it  by 
the  hour.  It  was  a  singular  crew  to  argue. 
Stevey  Todd  here,  who  was  cook,  was  a 
Baptist  and  a  Democrat,  and  the  mate  he 
was  a  Presbyterian  and  Republican,  and  the 
bos'n  he  was  for  Women's  Rights,  and  there 
was  a  man  named  Simms,  who  was  strong 
on  Predestination  and  had  a  theory  of  trade 
winds,  but  he  got  to  arguing  once  with  a 
man  in  Mobile,  who  didn't  understand  Pre 
destination  and  shot  him  full  of  holes,  sup 
posing  it  might  be  dangerous.  It  was  a 
singular  crew,  and  especially  in  the  matter 
of  arguing. 

They  were  all  older  than  I.  Stevey 
Todd  was  a  few  years  older.  I  recognised 
Abe  Dalrimple  here,  for  he  came  from 
Adrian,  though  I'd  seen  him  but  seldom  be 
fore.  Three  more  I'll  name,  Kid  Sadler, 
J.  R.  Craney,  and  Jimmy  Hagan,  who  was 
called  Irish;  for  they  were  ones  that  I  had 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         17 

to  do  with  later.  I  never  met  another  crew 
like  the  Hebe  Maitland' s.  I  guess  there 
never  was  one. 

Aboard  and  under  Clyde's  eye  they  were 
a  quiet  crew,  even  Sadler,  who  wasn't 
what  you'd  call  submissive  by  nature,  but  in 
port,  Clyde  would  now  and  then  let  them 
run  riotous.  He  was  a  little,  old,  dried  up, 
and  odd  man  with  a  vein  of  piousness  in 
him,  and  he  could  handle  men  in  a  way  that 
was  very  mysterious. 

The  fourth  day  out  of  New  York,  as  I 
recollect  it,  was  fair,  the  sun  shining,  and 
everything  peaceful  except  on  board  the 
Hebe  Maitland.  But  on  the  Hebe  Maitland 
the  men  wrere  running  around  with  paint  pots 
and  hauling  out  canvas  from  below.  No 
body  seemed  to  tell  me  what  was  the  mat 
ter.  The  Hebe  Maitland' s  hull  was  any  kind 
of  a  dingy  black,  but  the  rails,  canvas,  tar 
paulins,  and  companion  were  all  white.  By 
the  end  of  the  day  almost  everything  had 
been  modified.  They'd  got  a  kind  of  fore- 


1 8         The  "HebeMaitland" 

shortening  out  of  the  bowsprit,  and  another 
set  of  canvas  partly  up  that  was  dirty 
and  patched.  The  boats  were  shifted  and 
recovered,  cupola  taken  off  the  cabin,  and 
the  whole  look  of  the  ship  altered  in  mid- 
sea.  Then  Clyde  came  out  of  his  cabin  with 
a  board  in  his  hand,  and  they  unscrewed  the 
Hebe  Maitland's  name  from  forward  under 
the  anchor  hole,  and  the  Hebe  Maitland  in 
gilt  was  the  Hawk  in  white. 

I  went  off  and  sat  down  on  a  coil  of  rope, 
and  the  more  I  thought  it  over,  the  more  I 
didn't  make  it  out. 

After  that  I  heard  lively  talking  for 
ward  a  little,  and  there  was  Captain  Clyde, 
the  bos'n,  mate,  Stevey  Todd,  and  some 
others  arguing. 

The  bos'n  was  saying  he  hadn't  "  sworn 
no  allegiance  to  no  country  but  the  United 
States,  an'  there  ain't  no  United  States 
laws,"  he  says,  "  against  dodging  South 
American  customs  that  I  ever  see  nohow, 
and  being  I  never  see  a  South  American 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         19 

man  that  took  much  stock  in  'em  either,  I 
ain't  so  uppish  as  to  differ." 

Then  Stevey  Todd  chimed  in  and  made 
a  tidy  argument,  quoting  Scripture  to  prove 
that  "  actions  with  intent  to  deceive,  and 
deception  pursuant,"  weren't  moral,  and, 
moreover,  he  says :  "  Shall  we  lose  our 
souls  because  S.  A.  customs  is  ridiculous? 
Tell  me  that!" 

"  Shucks!  "  says  the  mate;  "  we're  saved 
by  grace !  " 

Then  Captain  Clyde  took  it  up  and  his 
argument  was  beautiful.  For  he  said  S.  A. 
customs  were  oppressive  to  the  poor  of  that 
country  by  wrongfully  preventing  them  from 
buying  U.  S.  goods;  so  that,  having  sworn 
to  the  U.  S.,  we  weren't  bound  by  S.  A.  laws 
further  than  humanity  or  the  Dago  was  able 
to  enforce;  "  which/'  he  says,  "  I  argue  ain't 
either  of  'em  the  case." 

"  That's  a  tart  argiment,  Captain  Clyde," 
says  the  bos'n.  "  I  never  heerd  you  make  a 
tarter." 


20        The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

They  went  on  that  way  till  it  made  my 
head  ache,  and  before  I  knew  it  I  was  argu 
ing  hard  against  the  bos'n,  the  captain  egg 
ing  me  on. 

I  sailed  with  that  crew  four  years.  They 
were  smugglers.  I'm  free  to  say  I  loved 
Clyde,  and  liked  the  crew.  For,  grant 
ing  he  was  much  of  a  miser  and  maybe 
but  a  shrewd  old  man,  to  be  corrupting  folks 
with  his  theories,  though  I'm  not  so  sure 
about  that,  not  knowing  what  he  really 
thought ;  yet,  he  was  a  bold  man,  and  a  kind 
man,  and  I  never  saw  one  that  was  keener  in 
judgment.  You  might  say  he  had  made 
that  crew  to  suit  him,  having  picked  out  the 
material  one  by  one,  and  they  were  most  of 
all  like  children  of  his  bringing  up.  I  judge 
he  had  a  theory  about  arguments,  that  so 
long  as  they  talked  up  to  him  and  freed  their 
opinions,  there  wouldn't  be  any  secret  trou 
ble  brewing  below,  or  maybe  it  was  only 
his  humour.  It  was  surely  a  fact  that  they 
were  steady  in  business  and  a  rare  crew  to 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         21 

his  purpose,  explain  it  as  one  may.  He 
taught  me  navigation,  and  treated  me  like  a 
son,  and  it's  not  for  me  to  go  back  on  him. 
I  don't  know  why  he  took  to  me  that  way, 
and  different  from  the  rest.  He  taught 
me  his  business  and  how  he  did  it.  I  was 
the  only  one  who  knew.  He  was  absolute 
owner  as  well  as  captain,  and  his  own  buyer 
and  seller  as  well.  He  carried  no  cargoes 
but  his  own,  which  he  made  up  for  the  most 
part  in  New  York  or  Philadelphia,  and 
would  bill  the  Hebe  Maitland  maybe  to  Rio 
Janeiro.  Then  the  Hawk  would  maybe  de 
liver  the  biggest  part  off  the  coast  of 
Venezuela  in  the  night,  and  the  Hebe  Mait 
land  would,  like  as  not,  sail  into  Rio  by-and- 
by  and  pay  her  duty  on  the  rest,  and  take 
a  cargo  to  New  York  as  properly  as  a  lady 
going  to  church. 

There  were  a  good  many  countries  in 
South  America  to  choose  from.  It  wasn't 
wise  to  visit  the  same  one  right  along, 
though  there  was  apt  to  be  a  new  govern- 


22         The  "Hebe  Maitlaftd" 

ment  when  we  came  again.  Clyde  knew  all 
about  it.  I'm  not  saying  but  what  an  odd 
official  of  a  government  here  and  there  was 
acquainted  with  the  merits  of  a  percentage, 
being  instructed  in  it  by  the  same.  For  all 
that  there  was  excitement.  It  was  a  great 
life.  Sometimes  I  catch  myself  heaving  a 
sigh  for  the  old  man  that's  dead,  and  say 
ing  to  myself,  "  That  was  a  great  life 
yonder." 

My  recollection  is,  it  was  a  sub-agent 
in  Cuba  who  turned  evidence  on  Clyde  at 
last,  for  a  gunboat  missed  us  by  only  a  few 
miles  coming  down  by  St.  Christopher,  as  I 
heard  afterward.  Then  a  Spanish  cruiser 
ran  us  down,  at  last,  under  a  corner  of  a 
little  island  among  the  Windwards,  about 
thirty  miles  east  of  Tobago,  where  Clyde's 
cleverness  came  to  nothing. 

It  was  growing  twilight,  we  driving 
close  off  the  low  shores  of  the  island.  The 
woods  were  dark  above  the  shore,  and  half 
a  mile  out  was  the  black  cruiser,  with  a 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         23 

pennon  of  smoke  against  the  sky,  and  the 
black  water  between.  I  went  into  Clyde's 
cabin  and  found  him  talking  to  himself. 

"  We'll  be  scuttling  her,  Tom,"  he  says. 

With  that  he  gave  a  jerk  at  the  foot  of 
his  bunk,  and  the  footboard  came  off,  and 
there  underneath  were  four  brown  canvas 
bags  tied  up  with  rope.  Now,  I  never  knew 
before  that  day  that  Clyde  didn't  keep  his 
money  in  a  bank,  same  as  any  other  civilised 
gentleman,  and  it  shows  how  little  I  knew 
about  him,  after  all.  He  sat  there  holding 
up  eagles  and  double  pesos  to  the  lamp 
light,  with  his  eyes  shining  and  his  wrinkled 
old  mouth  smiling. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  ?  "  I 
says,  surprised  at  the  sight  of  it,  and  he  kept 
on  smiling. 

"  I  guess  you  and  I  will  take  the  shiners 
ashore,"  he  says ;  "  I'd  give  you  a  writing, 
but  it  would  do  you  no  good,  Tommy.  I'm 
what  they  called  tainted." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that," 


24        The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

I  says.  "  Scuttled  she  is,  if  you  say  so. 
Shall  we  row  for  Tobago?  " 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  Tommy," 
he  says.  "  I  don't  know  what  the  Dagos 
will  do,  and  they're  pretty  likely  to  get  us 
anyhow,  but  we'll  give  'em  a  hunt.  But 
I've  got  a  fancy  you  ain't  got  to  the  end  of 
your  rope  yet,  lad,"  and  he  says  no  more  for 
a  minute  or  two,  and  then  he  heaves  a  sigh 
and  says :  "  The  shiners  are  yours  if  they 
cut  me  off.  I  won't  give  you  no  more  ad 
vice,  Tommy,  but  I  wish  you  luck." 

But  I  don't  see  why  he  had  such  a  notion 
that  he  was  near  his  own  end. 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  do,  to  blow  a  hole 
in  the  bottom  of  the  good  ship.  The  night 
was  dark  now,  but  the  lights  of  the  cruiser 
in  plain  sight,  and  we  knew  she'd  stand  off 
until  morning,  or  as  long  as  the  Hebe  Mait- 
land's  lanterns  burned  at  the  masts.  The 
crew  put  off  in  three  boats  to  round  the 
island  and  wait  for  us,  and  Clyde  and  I  took 
the  fourth  boat,  and  stowed  the  canvas  bags, 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         25 

and  went  ashore,  running  up  a  little  reedy  in 
let  to  the  end.  We  buried  them  in  the  exact 
middle  of  a  small  triangle  of  three  trees. 
Then  we  rowed  out,  and  I  threw  the  spade 
in  the  water,  and  when  we  rounded  the 
island,  taking  a  last  look  at  the  Hebe  Malt- 
land,  she  was  dipping  considerable,  as  could 
be  seen  from  the  hang  of  her  lanterns. 
Clyde  changed  to  another  boat  and  put 
Sadler,  Craney,  Irish,  Abe  Dalrimple,  and 
Stevey  Todd,  into  mine. 

I  noticed  it  as  curious  about  us,  that  so 
long  as  the  old  man  was  at  hand,  telling  us 
what  to  do,  we  all  acted  chipper  and  cheer 
ful,  but  as  soon  as  we'd  drifted  apart,  we 
grew  quieter,  and  Stevey  Todd  began  to 
act  scared  and  lost,  and  was  for  seeing  Span 
ish  cruisers  drop  out  of  the  air,  and  for  call 
ing  the  old  man  continually.  Somehow  we 
dropped  apart  in  the  dark. 

I've  sometimes  fancied  that  Clyde  put 
me  in  that  boat  with  those  men  because  it 
was  the  lightest  boat,  and  because  Sadler, 


26        The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

Craney,  and  Little  Irish  were  powerful  good 
rowers,  and  Abe  he  had  this  that  was  odd 
about  him  for  a  steersman,  for  though  he 
was  always  a  bit  wandering  in  his  mind,  yet 
he  could  tell  land  by  the  smell.  Put  him 
within  twenty  miles  of  land  at  sea,  no  matter 
how  small  an  island,  and  he'd  smell  the 
direction  of  it,  and  steer  for  it  like  a  bullet, 
and  that's  a  thing  he  don't  understand  any 
more  than  I.  I  never  made  out  why  Clyde 
took  to  me  that  way,  as  he  surely  did,  and 
left  me  his  shiners  as  sure  as  he  could,  and 
gave  me  what  chance  he  could  for  getting 
away,  or  so  I  fancied.  Just  so  surely  I 
never  saw  him  again,  when  once  we'd 
drifted  apart  that  night  among  the  Wind 
wards. 

A  New  Orleans  paper  of  the  week  after 
held  an  item  more  or  less  like  this : 

"  An  incoming  steamer  from  Trinidad, 
reports  the  overhauling  of  a  smuggler,  The 
Hawk,  by  the  Spanish  cruiser,  Reina  Isa 
bella.  The  smugglers  scuttled  the  ship  and 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         27 

endeavoured  to  escape,  but  were  captured, 
and  are  thought  to  have  been  all  hanged. 
This  summary  action  would  seem  entirely 
unjustifiable,  as  smuggling  is  not  a  capital 
offence  under  any  civilised  law.  The  dis 
turbed  state  of  affairs  under  our  Spanish- 
American  neighbours  may  account  for  it. 
The  Hawk  is  stated  to  be  an  old  offender. 
No  American  vessel  of  this  name  and  de 
scription  being  known  however,  it  is  not 
likely  that  there  will  be  any  investigation." 

The  New  York  Shipping  News  of  three 
months  later  had  this : 

"  The  bark,  Hebe  Maitland,  Mdse.,  Clyde, 
Cap.,  which  left  this  port  the  Qth  of  April, 
has  not  yet  been  heard  from." 

So  the  Reina  Isabella  thought  she  got 
all  the  crew  of  the  Hebe  Maitland,  likely  she 
thinks  so  yet,  for  I  don't  know  of  anybody 
that  ever  dropped  around  to  correct  her ;  but 
being  as  we  rowed  all  night  to  westward 
and  were  picked  up  next  morning  by  an 
English  steamer  bound  for  Colon  on  the 


28        The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

Isthmus  of  Panama,  and  were  properly 
landed  in  course  of  time,  I  argue  there  were 
some  of  them  she  didn't  get.  Their  names, 
as  standing  on  Clyde's  book,  were,  "  Robert 
Sadler,  James  Hagan,  Stephen  Todd,  Julius 
R.  Craney,  Abimelech  Dalrimple,  Thomas 
Buckingham." 

Kid  Sadler,  as  he  was  known  there  and 
then  and  since,  was  a  powerful  man,  bony 
and  tall,  with  a  scrawny  throat,  ragged, 
dangling  moustache,  big  hands,  little 
wrinkles  around  his  eyes,  and  a  hoarse  voice. 
I  wouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  say  I  could  give 
you  his  character,  for  I  never  made  it  out; 
yet  I'd  say  he  was  given  to  sentiment,  and 
to  turning  out  poetry  like  a  corn-shucker,  and 
singing  it  to  misfit  and  uneducated  tunes, 
and  given  to  joyfulness  and  depression  by 
turns,  and  to  misleading  his  fellow-man 
when  he  was  joyful,  and  suffering  remorse 
for  it  afterward  pretty  regular,  taking  turns, 
like  fever  and  chills;  which  qualities,  when 
you  take  them  apart,  don't  seem  likely  to  fit 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         29 

together  again,  and  I'm  not  saying  they  did 
fit  in  Sadler.  They  appeared  to  me  to 
project  over  the  edges.  I  never  made  him 
out. 

Hagan  I  never  knew  to  be  called  any 
name  but  "  Irish,"  or  "  Little  Irish,"  except 
by  Clyde  himself.  He  was  small  and 
chunky  in  build,  and  nervous  in  his  mind, 
and  had  red  fuzzy  hair  that  stuck  up  around 
his  head  like  an  aureole.  Generally  silent 
he  was,  except  when  excited,  and  seemed 
even  then  to  be  settled  to  his  place  in  this 
world,  which  was  to  be  Sadler's  heeler.  He 
followed  Sadler  all  his  after  days,  so  far  as 
I  know,  same  as  Stevey  Todd  did  me.  I 
don't  know  why,  but  I'd  say  as  to  Irish, 
that  he  was  a  man  without  much  stiffness  or 
stay-by,  if  left  to  himself,  whereas  Sadler 
was  one  that  would  rather  be  in  trouble  than 
not,  if  he  had  the  choice. 

As  to  Craney,  I'll  say  this.  When  Clyde 
and  I  were  coming  out  of  the  inlet,  he  gave 
me  a  hundred  and  forty  dollars,  and  he  says, 


30        The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

"  Look  out  for  Craney,"  but  I  had  no  notion 
what  he  meant  by  it.  Now,  soon  after  we 
landed  in  Colon,  Craney  and  Abe  Dalrimple 
got  a  chance  for  a  passage  to  New  York, 
and  my  hundred  and  forty  went  off  some 
where  about  the  same  time.  Sadler,  Irish, 
nor  Stevey  Todd  didn'j  take  it,  for  they 
didn't  have  it,  not  to  speak  of  other  rea 
sons.  Abe's  given  to  wandering  in  his 
mind,  but  he  don't  wander  that  way  either. 
Now,  there  were  thieves  enough  in  Colon, 
and  Craney  never  owned  to  it,  but  I'll  say 
he  showed  a  weakness  afterward  for  putting 
cash  into  my  pocket,  that  I  shouldn't  have 
said  was  natural  to  him  without  further  rea 
sons.  But  supposing  he'd  been  there  be 
fore,  he  surely  put  more  back  in  the  end 
than  he  ever  took  out.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
I'd  had  the  money  in  Colon  I  might  have 
gone  back  to  the  Windwards  and  to  the 
triangle  of  three  trees,  with  Sadler,  Irish, 
and  Stevey  Todd,  and  so  back  to  Greenough 
and  Madge  Pemberton,  and  been  a  hotel- 


The  "Hebe  Maitland  "         31 

keeper  maybe,  which  is  a  good  trade  in 
Greenough.  Craney  was  ambitious  and  en 
terprising.  He  had,  as  you  might  say,  soar 
ing  ideas,  and  he'd  been  a  valuable  man  to 
Clyde  for  the  complicated  schemes  he  was 
always  setting  up.  He  was  a  medium-sized 
man,  with  light  hair  and  eyebrows,  and  a 
yellowish  face,  and  a  frame  lean,  though 
sinewy,  and  had  only  one  good  eye,  the  other 
pale  like  a  fish's.  His  business  eye  always 
looked  like  it  was  boring  a  hole  in  some  in 
genious  idea.  As  an  arguer  on  the  Hebe 
Maitland  his  style  was  airy  and  gorgeous, 
contrary  to  the  style  of  Stevey  Todd,  who 
was  a  cautious  arguer,  and  gingerly. 

Craney  was  about  forty  years  old  at  the 
time  of  the  Hebe  Maitland 's  loss,  and  Sad 
ler  about  the  same. 

There  were  four  of  us  then,  left  at  Colon, 
after  Craney  and  Abe  had  gone.  Pretty 
soon  we  were  badly  off.  We  couldn't  seem 
to  get  berths,  and  not  much  to  eat.  One 
day  I  up  and  says : 


32         The  "Hebe  Maitland" 

"  I'm  going  across  the  Isthmus.  Who 
else?  "  and  Sadler  says,  "  One  of  'em's  me," 
and  we  all  went,  footing  thirty  miles  the 
first  day,  and  slept  among  the  rocks  on  a 
hillside. 

The  fourth  day  we  went  down  the  water 
shed  to  the  town  of  Panama.  There  we 
found  a  ship  ready  in  port  that  was  short 
of  hands,  and  shipped  on  her  to  go  round  the 
Horn.  She  was  named  the  Helen  Mar. 

Captain  Buckingham  paused  to  fill  his 
pipe  again,  and  Stevey  Todd  said : 

"  *  Intent  to  deceive  and  deception  pur 
suant/  was  my  words,  and  I  never  give  in," 
and  Uncle  Abimelech  piped  up  to  a  crazy 
tune : 

"  You  can  arguy  here  and  arguy  there, 
But  them  that  dangles  in  the  air 
They  surely  was  mistook  somewhere, 
They  ain't  got  good  foundations." 

"  Aye,"  said  Captain  Buckingham 
thoughtfully.  "  It  was  so.  I  heard  Sad- 


The  "Hebe  Maitland"         33 

ler  tune  that  to  his  banjo  the  night  we  got  to 
Colon.  Abe's  got  that  kind  of  a  memory, 
which  is  loose  but  gluey.  It  was  so.  Sad 
ler  meant  old  man  Clyde." 


CHAPTER  III 

Gbe  t)0tel  l>cten  A&ar.  Gbe  narrative  Con* 
tinned 

MOST  ships  trading  round  the  Horn 
to  the  West  Coast  in  those  days 
would  take  a  charter  on  the  Gulf  Stream 
to  clean  them  well,  on  account  of  carrying 
guano.  The  Helen  Mar  carried  no  guano, 
and  charged  freightage  accordingly  for  be 
ing  clean.  Drygoods  she'd  brought  out 
from  New  York,  linens,  cottons,  tinware, 
shoes,  and  an  outfit  of  furniture  for  a 
Chilian  millionaire's  house,  including  a  half- 
dozen  baby  carriages,  and  a  consignment  of 
silk  stockings  and  patent  medicines.  Now 
she  was  going  back,  expecting  to  pick  up  a 
cargo  of  rubber  and  cocoa  and  what  not, 
along  the  West  Coast.  Captain  Goodwin 
was  master,  and  it  happened  he  was  short  of 
hands,  including  his  cook.  He  hired 
Stevey  Todd  for  cook,  and  shipped  the  rest 

34 


The  Hotel  Helen  Mar         35 

of  us  willing  enough.  It  was  in  October  as 
I  recollect  it,  and  sometime  in  November 
when  WTC  came  to  lie  in  the  harbour  of  the 
city  of  Portate. 

Portate  is  about  seven  hundred  miles  be 
low  the  equator,  and  has  a  harbour  at  the 
mouth  of  a  river  called  the  Jiron,  and  even 
in  those  days  it  was  an  important  place,  as 
being  at  the  end  of  a  pass  over  the  Cordil 
leras.  There's  a  railroad  up  the  pass  now, 
and  I  hear  the  city  has  trolleys  and  elec 
tric  lights,  but  at  that  time  it  hadn't  much 
excitement  except  internal  rumblings  and 
explosions,  meaning  it  had  politics  and  vol 
canoes.  Most  of  the  ships  that  came  to 
anchor  there  belonged  to  one  company 
called  the  "  British-American  Transport 
Company/'  which  took  most  of  the  rubber 
and  cocoa  bark,  that  came  over  the  pass  on 
mules — trains  of  mules  with  bells  on  their 
collars.  But  the  Helen  Mar  had  a  consign 
ment  promised  her.  The  pack  mules  were 
due  by  agreement  a  week  before,  so  they 


36         The  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

naturally  wouldn't  come  for  a  week  after. 
"  Mariana  "  is  a  word  said  to  mean  "  to 
morrow,"  but  if  you  took  it  to  mean  "  next 
month  "  you'd  have  a  better  sight  on  the  in 
tentions  of  it.  That's  the  way  of  it  in  South 
America  with  all  but  the  politics  and  the 
climate.  The  politics  and  the  climate  are 
like  this ;  when  they're  quiet,  they're  asleep ; 
and  when  they're  not,  politics  are  revolu 
tions  and  guns,  and  the  climate  is  letting 
off  stray  volcanoes  and  shaking  up  earth 
quakes. 

But  it  was  pleasant  to  be  in  the  harbour 
of  Portate.  Everything  there  seemed  lazy. 
You  could  lie  on  a  bunch  of  sail  cloth,  and 
see  the  city,  the  sand,  and  the  bluffs,  and  the 
valley  of  the  Jiron  up  to  the  nearer  Andes. 
You  could  look  up  the  level  river  to  some 
low  hills,  but  what  happened  to  the  Jiron 
there  you  couldn't  tell  from  the  Helen  Mar. 
Beyond  were  six  peaks  of  the  Andes,  and 
four  of  them  were  white,  and  two  blue-black 
in  the  distance,  with  little  white  caps  of 


The  Hotel  Helen  Mar 


37 


smoke  over  them.  The  biggest  of  the  black 
ones  was  named  "  Sarasara,"  which  was  a 
nasty  volcano,  so  a  little  old  boatman  told 
us. 

"Si,  senor!  Oh,  la  Sarasara!'' 
His  name  was  Cuco,  and  he  sold  us  ba 
nanas  and  mangoes,  and  was  drowned  after 
wards.  The  Sarasara  was  a  gay  bird.  The 
mule  drivers  called  her  "  The  Wicked  Grand 
mother." 

It  came  on  the  23d  of  November.  Cap 
tain  Goodwin  and  all  the  crew  were  gone 
ashore,  excepting  Stevey  Todd  and  me  left 
aboard.  Sadler  and  Irish  had  been  ashore 
several  days  without  showing  up,  for  I  re 
member  telling  Captain  Goodwin  that  Sad 
ler  wouldn't  desert,  not  being  a  quitter,  at 
which  he  didn't  seem  any  more  than  satisfied. 
I  was  feeling  injured  too,  thinking  Sadler 
was  likely  to  be  having  more  happiness  than 
he  deserved,  maybe  setting  up  a  centre  of 
insurrection  in  Portate,  and  leaving  me  out 
of  it.  Cuco  come  out  in  his  boat,  putting 


38         The  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

it  under  the  ship's  side,  and  crying  up  to  us 
to  buy  his  mangoes. 

Stevey  Todd  came  out  of  the  galley  to 
tell  him  his  mangoes  were  no  good,  so  as  to 
get  up  an  argument,  and  Cuco  laughed. 

"  Si,  sefior,"  he  says,  "  look !  Ver'  good." 
Then  he  nodded  towards  the  shore : 

"  La  Sarasara !  Oh,  la  Sarasara !  "  laugh 
ing  and  holding  up  his  mangoes. 

The  smoke-cap  over  the  Sarasara  was 
blacker  than  usual  and  uncommon  big  it 
looked  to  me.  Just  then  it  seemed  to  be 
going  up  and  spreading  out.  Stevey  Todd 
looked  over  the  side,  and  gave  a  grunt,  and 
he  says,  "  Something's  a-suckin'  the  water 
out  of  the  harbour." 

Then  I  felt  the  Helen  Mar  tugging  at 
her  anchor,  and  the  water  was  going  by  her 
like  a  mill  race,  and  Cuco  was  gone,  and  on 
shore  people  were  running  away  from  the 
wharves  and  the  river  toward  the  upper 
town. 

I  saw  the  trees  swaying,  though  there  was 


The  Hotel  Helen  Mar         39 

no  wind,  and  a  building  fell  down  near  the 
water. 

Then  Stevey  Todd  whirled  around  and 
flung  up  his  hands. 

"Oh!"  he  says;  "Oh!    Oh!" 

I  never  saw  a  scareder  cook,  for  he 
dropped  on  the  deck,  and  clapped  his  legs 
around  a  capstan  and  screamed,  "  Lord ! 
Lord !  " 

For  the  whole  Pacific  Ocean  appeared  to 
be  heaving  out  its  chest  and  coming  on, 
eighty  feet  high.  I  tied  myself  around  an 
other  capstan,  and  I  says,  "  Good-night, 
Tommy ! " 

The  tidal  wave  broke  into  surf  an  eighth 
of  a  mile  out,  and  came  on  us  in  a  tum 
ble  of  foam,  hissing  and  roaring  like  a 
loose  menagerie,  and  down  she  comes  on  the 
Helen  Mar,  and  up  goes  the  Helen  Mar 
climbing  through  the  foam.  Me,  I  hung  on 
to  the  capstan. 

The  next  thing  I  knew  we  were  shooting 
past  the  upper  town,  up  the  valley  of  the 


40        The  Hotel  Helen  Mar 


Jiron,  and  there  wasn't  any  lower  town  to 
be  seen.  We  were  bound  for  the  Andes. 
The  crest  of  the  wave  was  a  few  rods  ahead, 
and  the  air  was  full  of  spray.  I  saw  the 
Sarasara  too,  having  a  nice  time  spitting 
things  out  of  her  mouth,  and  it  looked  to 
me  like  she  waggled  her  head  with  the 
fun  she  was  having.  But  the  Helen  Mar 
was  having  no  fun,  nor  me,  nor  Stevey  Todd. 
It  was  four  miles  the  Helen  Mar  went 
in  a  few  minutes,  going  slower  toward  the 
end.  By-and-by  she  hit  bottom,  and  keeled 
over  against  a  bunch  of  old  fruit  trees  on  the 
bank  of  the  river,  and  lay  still,  or  only 
swayed  a  little,  the  water  swashing  in  her 
hold.  Right  ahead  were  the  foothills  of  the 
Cordilleras,  and  the  gorge  where  the  Jiron 
came  down,  and  where  the  mule  path 
came  down  beside  the  river.  The  big 
wave  went  up  to  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
and  now  it  came  back  peaceful.  Then 
it  was  quiet  everywhere,  except  for  the 
sobbing  of  the  ebb  among  the  tree  trunks, 


The  Hotel  Helen  Mar         41 

and  afterward  lower  down  in  the  bed  of  the 
river.  The  ground  rose  to  the  foothills 
there,  and  the  channel  of  the  river  lay  deep 
below,  with  a  sandy  bank  maybe  twenty 
feet  high  on  either  side,  and  on  the  bank 
above  the  river  lay  the  Helen  Mar,  propped 
up  by  the  fruit  trees. 

By  dusk  there  was  no  water  except  in  the 
river,  and  some  pools,  but  there  were  heaps 
of  wreckage.  Stevey  Todd  and  I  got  down 
and  looked  things  over.  Down  the  valley 
we  saw  pieces  of  the  town  of  Portate  lying 
along,  and  bey9nd  we  saw  the  Pacific.  And 
Stevey  Todd  wiped  his  face  on  his  sleeves, 
and  he  says,  "  Maybe  that's  ridiculous,  and 
maybe  it  ain't/'  he  says,  "  but  I'd  argue  it." 

We  swabbed  off  the  decks  of  the  Helen 
Mar,  and  scuttled  the  bottom  of  her  to  let  the 
water  out.  Then  the  next  day  we  went 
down  to  Portate.  There  were  a  sad  lot  of 
people  drowned,  including  Captain  Goodwin 
and  most  of  the  crew.  Sadler  and  Irish  we 
didn't  find,  and  some  others,  and  there  was 


42         The  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

a  man  named  Pickett  who  wasn't  drowned. 
He  went  south  to  Lima  by-and-by. 

Afterwards  we  did  up  the  ship's  papers, 
and  the  cash  and  bills  in  the  Captain's  chest, 
thinking  them  proper  to  go  to  the  ship's 
owners.  And  Stevey  Todd  says : 

"  A  wreck's  a  wreck.  That  river  ain't 
three  foot  deep.  How'd  they  float  her  out 
of  this?  You  say,  for  I  ain't  made  up  my 
mind,"  he  says,  which  I  didn't  tell  him,  not 
knowing  how  they'd  do  it. 

For  a  few  days  Stevey  Todd  and  I  lived 
high  on  ship's  stores,  loafing  and  looking 
down  the  valley  at  the  damaged  city.  All 
the  river  front  was  wrecked.  Halfway  up 
the  long  sloping  hill  the  streets  were  sloppy, 
and  any  man  that  had  a  roof  to  sleep  on, 
slept  drier  there  than  inside,  but  the  upper 
city  was  well  enough. 

We  woke  up  from  sleeping  on  the  shady 
side  of  the  Helen  Mar  one  afternoon,  to  hear 
the  jingle  of  bells,  and  soon  the  mule  train 
pulled  up  alongside,  and  the  drivers  weren't 


The  Hotel  Helen  Mar         43 

used  to  seeing  ships  in  that  neighbourhood. 
They  were  expecting  trouble  from  the  Helen 
Mar  for  their  being  two  weeks  late;  but 
still,  finding  the  Helen  Mar  up  by  the  foot 
hills  looking  for  them,  it  appeared  to  strike 
them  as  impatient  and  not  real  ladylike. 
But  what  seemed  strange  to  me  was  to  see 
Sadler  and  Irish,  that  were  taken  for 
drowned  beyond  further  trouble,  standing 
in  front  of  the  mule-drivers,  looking  down 
at  us,  and  then  up  at  the  Helen  Mar,  and 
Sadler  seeming  like  he  had  a  satirical  poem 
on  his  mind  which  he  was  going  to  propa 
gate. 

I  says,  "  No  ghosteses  allowed  here.  You 
go  away." 

"  Tommy,"  says  Sadler,  and  he  came  and 
anchored  alongside  us  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Helen  Mar,  "  I  take  it  these  here's  the  facts. 
Your  natural  respectfulness  to  elders  was 
shocked  out  of  you,  and  you  ain't  got 
over  it." 

"Over  what?" 


44         The  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

"  Why,  she  must  've  got  tanked  up  bad," 
he  says.  "  She  must  have  been  full  up  and 
corked  before  she'd  ever  have  come  prancin' 
up  here.  My!  my!  It's  tumble  when  a 
decent  ship  gets  an  appetite  for  alcohol. 
Here  she  lies!  Shame  and  propriety  for 
gotten  !  Immodestly  exposed  to  grinnin' 
heathens ! " 

"  You  let  the  Helen  Mar  alone,"  I  says 
pretty  mad.  "  She  ain't  so  bad  as  drowned 
corpses  riding  mules." 

Then  Stevey  put  in  cautiously,  and  said 
he'd  never  really  made  up  his  mind,  and  had 
doubts  of  it  which  he  was  ready  to  argue, 
supposing  Sadler  had  any  facts  to  put  up 
as  bearing  on  his  and  Irish's  condition  in 
nature. 

Sadler  said  they  had  gone  up  the  mule 
path  expecting  to  climb  Sarasara,  but  get 
ting  near  the  top  of  her,  she  began  to  act  as 
if  she  disliked  them,  Sarasara  did,  and  she 
threw  rocks  vicious  and  more  than  playful; 
so  that  they  left  her,  and  went  on  up  the 


The  Hotel  Helen  Mar         45 

pass  to  look  for  the  mule  train.    They  didn't 
know  anything  had  happened  in  Portate. 

We  put  the  mule-drivers  up  that  night 
and  charged  them  South  American  rates. 
That  was  the  way  Stevey  Todd  and  I  started 
keeping  the  Helen  Mar  as  a  hotel.  Sadler 
and  Irish  didn't  care  for  the  business.  They 
went  down  to  Portate  and  got  jobs  with  the 
Transport  Company,  but  Stevey  Todd  and  I 
stayed  by  the  Helen  Mar,  and  ran  the  hotel. 

All  the  year  through  or  nearly,  the  mule 
trains  might  come  jingling  at  any  day  or 
hour,  coming  from  inland  over  the  pass  to 
the  sea,  with  the  packs  and  thirsty  drivers, 
who  paid  their  bills  sometimes  in  gum  rubber 
and  Peruvian  bark.  Tobacco  planters  stopped 
there  too,  going  down  to  Portate.  Men 
from  the  ships  in  the  harbour  came  out,  and 
carried  off  advertisements  of  the  hotel,  and 
plastered  the  coast  with  them.  I  saw  an 
advertisement  of  the  "  Hotel  Helen  Mar  " 
ten  years  after  in  a  shipping  office  in  San 
Francisco,  and  it  read: 


46         The  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

"Hotel  Helen  Mar,  Portate,  Peru. 
Mountain  and  Sea  Breezes.  Board  and 
Lodging  Good  and  Reasonable.  Sailor's 
Snug  Harbour.  Welcome  Jolly  Tar. 
Thomas  Buckingham  and  Stephen  Todd." 

That  was  for  foreign  patronage.  The 
home  advertisements  were  in  Spanish  and 
went  up  country  with  the  mule  trains.  Up 
in  the  Andes  they  knew  more  about  the 
Hotel  Helen  Mar  than  they  did  of  the  Peru 
vian  Government.  We  ran  the  hotel  to  sur 
prise  South  America. 

It  was  nearly  a  year  before  we  heard 
from  the  ship's  owners,  though  we  sent 
them  the  proper  papers;  and  then  a  man 
came  out,  and  looked  at  the  Helen  Mar,  and 
says: 

"  I  guess  she  belongs  where  she  is.  Run 
ning  a  hotel,  are  you?"  and  he  carried  off 
the  sails  and  other  rigging. 

She  was  propped  up  at  first  only  by 
the  bunch  of  fruit  trees,  but  by-and-by  we 
bedded  her  in  stones.  We  painted  a  sign 


The  Hotel  Helen  Mar         47 

across  her  forty  feet  long,  but  cut  no  doors, 
because  a  seaman  won't  treat  a  ship  that 
way.  You  had  to  climb  ladders  to  the  deck. 

Inside  she  was  comfortable.  No  hotel 
piazza  could  equal  the  Helen  Mar's  deck  on  a 
warm  night,  with  the  old  southern  stars 
overhead,  when  a  bunch  of  mule-drivers 
maybe  would  be  forward  talking,  and  I  and 
Stevey  Todd  aft  with  a  couple  of  Spanish 
planters,  or  an  agent,  or  the  officers  of  a 
warship  maybe  from  England  or  the  States. 
Over  on  the  hillside  lay  Captain  Goodwin 
and  most  of  the  crew  of  the  Helen  Mar, 
wishing  us  well,  and  close  to  starboard  you 
heard  all  night  the  tinkle  of  the  Jiron  River 
down  in  its  channel.  It  was  twenty  feet 
from  the  deck  of  the  Helen  Mar  to  the 
ground,  and  twenty  feet  from  there  to  the 
river. 

Portate  was  a  pleasant  little  city  in  those 
days.  It  had  pink-uniformed  soldiery  for 
the  city  guard,  and  a  fat,  warm-tempered 
Mayor,  who  used  often  to  come  up  to  the 


48         The  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

hotel  and  cool  off  when  something  had 
stuck  a  pin  into  his  dignity  that  made  him 
feverish.  Stevey  Todd  was  cook  and  I  was 
manager.  Business  was  good  and  the  com 
pany  good  at  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar. 


CHAPTER  IV 
Safclet  in  portate.   Gbe  narrative  Continued 

I  DON'T  know  how  Sadler  got  to  be 
Harbour  Master  for  the  Transport 
Company,  but  so  he  did,  and  he  was  a 
capable  harbour  master.  The  Transport 
Company  thought  much  of  him,  only  they 
said  he  was  reckless,  and  he  surely  acted 
youthful  to  belie  his  looks.  He  used  to  go 
around  in  a  grimy  little  tugboat  called  the 
Harvest  Moon,  \vith  Irish  running  the 
engine  below,  and  himself  busy  thrashing 
and  blackguarding  roustabouts,  joyful  like 
a  dewy  morn ;  but  at  night  he'd  be  found  on 
the  deck  of  either  the  Helen  Mar  or  the 
Harvest  Moon,  playing  a  banjo  very  melan 
choly,  and  singing  his  verses  to  tunes  that 
he  got  from  secret  sources  of  sorrow  maybe, 
which  the  verses  were  interesting,  but  the 
tunes  weren't  fortunate.  He  was  particular 

49 


50  Sadler  in  Portate 

about  his  poetry  being  accurate  to  facts,  but 
he'd  no  gift  as  to  tunes. 

The  trouble  he  got  into  all  came  from 
throwing  Pedro  Hillary  off  the  stern  of  the 
Harvest  Moon,  so  that  Pete  went  out  with 
the  tide,  because  no  one  thought  him  worth 
fishing  out,  till  it  was  found  that  he  was  a 
member  of  some  sort  of  Masonic  Society 
among  the  negroes  in  Ferdinand  Street,  and 
a  British  subject  too,  who  came  from 
Jamaica  to  Portate.  But  before  that  time 
Pete  was  picked  up  by  a  rowboat,  and  came 
back  to  Portate  and  Ferdinand  Street.  He 
and  Ferdinand  Street  were  very  mad.  It 
was  a  street  occupied  by  negroes,  and  Sadler 
wasn't  popular  there. 

He  came  up  to  the  Helen  Mar  the  after 
noon  of  the  day  that  Pete  went  out  of  the 
harbour,  and  lay  in  a  hammock  on  deck, 
where  one  could  look  down  past  the  fruit 
trees  toward  the  town  and  the  mouth  of  the 
Jiron.  He  was  making  a  requiem  for  Pete 
Hillary,  such  as  he  thought  he  ought  to  do 


Sadler  in  Portate  51 

under  those  circumstances,  though  the 
requiem  was  no  good  and  the  tune  vicious. 
11  Pete  Hillary/'  it  began, 

"  Pete  Hillary,  I  make  for  you 
This  lonesome,  sad  complaint. 
Alive  you  wa'nt  no  use,  'tis  true, 
And  dead  you  prob'ly  ain't. 

"  Pete  Hillary,  Pete  Hillary, 
I  don't  know  where  you  are. 
Here's  luck  to  you,  Pete  Hillary, 
Beyond  the  harbour  bar." 

Just  then  Irish  came  running  up  the  path, 
and  climbed  the  ladder  on  deck,  and  he  cried : 

"  It's  a  warrant  for  ye,  Kid !  Run !  Oh, 
wirra !  What  did  ye  do  it  for  ?  "  He  was 
distracted. 

Sadler  paid  no  attention.  He  only  twanged 
his  banjo,  and  sang  casual  poetry,  and  Little 
Irish  ran  on: 

"  Tis  Pete  Hillary  himself  was  pulled  out 
forninst  the  sand-bar/'  he  says,  "  an'  he's 
back  in  Ferdinand  Street,  swearin'  for  the 
bucket  o'  wather  he  swallyed.  An'  'tis  the 
English  consul  up  to  the  City  Hall  says  he 


52  Sadler  in  Portate 

come  from  Jamaica,  an'  a  crowd  of  naygers 
from  Ferdinand  Street  be  the  docks.  Ah, 
coom,  Kid!  Coom  quick,  for  the  love  of 
God!" 

And  Sadler  says :  "  Gi'n  me  a  kiss,"  he 
says, 

"  Gi'n  me  a  kiss,  sweetheart,  says  he; 
Don't  shed  no  tears  for  me,  says  he, 
And  if  I  meet  a  lass  as  sweet 
In  Paraguay,  in  Paraguay, 
I'll  tell  her  this:  '  Gi'n  me  a  kiss; 
You  ain't  half  bad  for  Paraguay.'  " 

And  Irish  says :  "  An'  there's  two  twin 
sojers  with  their  guns,"  he  says,  "  an'  belts 
full  of  cartridges  on  the  Harvest  Moon,  an' 
the  gentlemen  at  the  Transport  says,  Hide, 
dom  ye!  he  says,  till  they  can  ship  ye  wid  a 
cargo  to  Californy." 

Says  Sadler : 

"  The  little  islands  fall  asleep, 

The  little  wavelets  wink. 
Aye,  God's  on  high;  the  sea  is  deep; 

Go,  Chepa,  get  some  drink. 
Ah,  Magdalena 

"Calm,    Irish!     Get    calm!"    he    says. 


Sadler  in  Portate  53 

"  You  mean  to  say  there's  twins  like  that 
occupying  the  Harvest  Moon? 

"  Magdalena, 

First  I  seen  her 
Underneath  an  orange-tree 

"  They  are,"  says  Irish. 

"  Well— ain't  they  got  nerve !  " 

"  She  was  swashin' 
Suds  and  washin' 
Shirts  beneath  her  orange-tree," 

he  says.  "  Why,  I  got  to  go  down  and 
spank  'em !  "  he  says,  and  he  rolled  out  of 
the  hammock  and  went  off  down  the  road 
toward  Portate  with  Irish  pattering  after 
him. 

We  saw  no  more  of  them  that  day,  and 
we  didn't  hear  any  news  until  the  noon  fol 
lowing.  There  was  a  gale  from  the  north 
west  in  the  morning.  I  went  down  to  the 
city  in  the  afternoon,  and  found  the  Plaza 
boiling  with  news. 

It  seemed  that  Sadler  had  gone  aboard 
the  Harvest  Moon  and  surprised  the  two 


54  Sadler  in  Portate 

soldiers,  and  dipped  them  in  the  water  with 
their  artillery,  and  sent  them  uptown  with 
the  wet  warrant  stuck  in  the  muzzle  of  a 
gun.  Then  he  paraded  the  Harvest  Moon 
the  length  of  Portate's  water-front,  tooting 
his  steam  whistle.  Then  the  Jefe  Municipal 
— that's  the  Mayor — fell  into  his  warmest 
temper,  and  sent  a  company  of  pink  soldiery 
of  the  City  Guard  in  the  morning,  packed 
close  in  a  tugboat.  Then  Sadler  led  them 
seaward,  where  the  gale  was  blowing  from 
the  northwest  and  the  seas  piled  past  the 
harbour;  so  most  of  the  pink  soldiers  were 
seasick,  not  being  good  mariners,  and  the 
gale  standing  the  tugs  on  their  beam-ends, 
which  was  no  sort  of  place  for  a  City  Guard. 
They  came  back  unhappy.  The  Harvest 
Moon  was  in  again,  and  now  anchored  in 
the  harbour.  I  passed  the  Jefe  myself  on 
the  City  Hall  steps,  and  heard  him  b-r-r-ring 
like  a  dynamo.  Then  I  went  down  to  the 
harbour. 

The  Harvest  Moon  lay  rolling  a  half  mile 


Sadler  in  Portate  55 

out.  I  took  a  rowboat  and  rowed  out.  When 
I  drew  near,  I  saw  Sadler  standing  by  the  rail 
with  the  black  nozzle  of  a  hose  pipe  pushed 
forward,  and  shading  his  eyes  against  the 
glint  of  the  water.  When  he  saw  it  was  me 
he  took  me  aboard.  But  he  was  thoughtful 
and  depressed.  He  sat  himself  on  the  rail 
and  dangled  his  boots  over  the  water  and 
described  his  state  of  mind. 

"What  makes  a  man  act  so?"  he  says. 
"  There's  my  fellow-man.  Look  at  him ! 
I'm  sorry  for  him.  Most  of  him  had  hard 
luck  to  be  born,  and  yet  when  he  gets  in  my 
way  I  just  walk  all  over  him.  I  can't  help 
it.  He's  leathery  and  he's  passive,  my  fel 
low-man.  He  goes  to  sleep  in  the  middle 
of  the  road.  When  I  ketch  one  of  him,  I 
kicks  a  hole  in  his  trousers  first,  and  then  it 
occurs  to  me,  *  My  suff erin'  brother !  This 
is  too  bad ! '  Why,  Pete  Hillary  was  one 
of  the  dumbdest  and  leatheriest,  and  here's 
the  Mayor's  pink  sojers  been  fillin'  me  with 
joy  and  sorrow,  till  I  laughed  from  eleven 


56  Sadler  in  Portate 

till  twelve,  and  been  sheddin'  tears  ever 
since.  Irish's  been  three  times  around  his 
rosary  before  he  got  the  scare  kinks  out  of 
him,  and  between  Irish  bein'  pathetic,  and 
the  Mayor  and  his  sojers  comin'  out  pink 
and  going  back  jammed  to  the  colour  of 
canned  salmon,  my  feelin's  is  worked  up  to 
bust.  What  makes  a  man  act  so?  It  must 
be  he  has  cats  in  him." 

He  pulled  his  moustache  and  looked 
gloomy,  and  I  judged  his  remorse  was  sin 
cere.  I  says : 

"That's  what  I  don't  put  together. 
Why,  Kid,  look  here !  If  you  feel  as  bad 
as  that  three-for-a-cent  requiem  to  Pete 
Hillary  sounded,  it's  cats  all  right.  It's  the 
same  kind  that  light  on  back  fences  and  feel 
sick,  and  express  themselves  by  clawing 
faces,"  I  says,  "  and  blaspheming  the  moon 
with  sounds  that  never  ought  to  be.  That 
what  you  mean  by  '  cats  in  him  '  ?  " 

"  Precise,  Tommy,  precise." 

"  Well,  I  don't  put  it  together,"  I  says. 


Sadler  in  Portate  57 

"  I  wouldn't  feel  like  that  for  the  satisfaction 
of  drowning  all  Ferdinand  Street.  Why, 
poetical  habits  and  habits  of  banging  folks 
don't  seem  to  me  to  fit.  Why,"  I  says,  "  a 
poet  he's  one  thing,  and  a  scrapper  he's 
another,  ain't  they?  They  don't  agree. 
One  of  'em  feels  bad  about  it,  and  takes  to 
laments  and  requiems  nights,  same  as  ma 
laria." 

"  It's  this  way,"  he  says.  "  Those  are 
just  two  different  ways  of  statin'  that  things 
are  interestin'.  And  yet,  you're  not  far 
from  the  facts.  It  was  a  shoemaker  in 
Portland,  Maine,"  he  says,  "  that  taught  me 
to  chuck  metres  when  I  was  a  young  one, 
and  the  shoemaker's  son  taught  me  to  fight 
in  the  back  yard,  more  because  he  was  bigger 
than  because  he  was  interested  in  educatin' 
me.  By-and-by  I  beat  the  shoemaker  on 
metres  and  the  son  in  the  back  yard,  and 
then  I  left  'em,  for  they  was  no  more  use  to 
me.  But  I  never  found  anything  else  so 
much  satisfaction  as  them  two  pursuits. 


58  Sadler  in  Portate 

But  I'll  go  away,  Tommy,"  he  says,  "  I'll 
leave  Portate.  I  will,  honest.  I'll  be  good. 
I  wish  they'd  quit  puttin'  temptations  on  me. 
But  they  won't.  They're  comin'  out  again ! 
Look  at  'em!  They've  borrowed  the 
Juanita,  and  she's  comin'  with  only  the 
steersman  in  sight,  and  a  cabin  full  of  sojers 
that  can't  keep  their  bayonets  inside  of  the 
windows.  My !  ain't  they  sly !  " 

He  went  to  the  companion  way  and  called 
Irish,  telling  him  to  "  start  her  up." 

The  Juanita  was  one  of  the  Transport 
Company's  tugs.  She  appeared  to  be  en 
gaged  in  a  stratagem.  She  passed  the 
Harvest  Moon,  then  swung  around  and 
came  up,  on  the  other  side.  The  Harvest 
Moon  made  no  effort  to  escape  her  anchor 
age,  though  the  engine  below  began  thump 
ing  busily. 

Sadler  went  aft,  dragging  the  long  black 
hose,  and  sat  on  the  rail  till  the  Juanita  drew 
in  to  forty  feet  away,  and  through  the  deck 
house  windows  you  could  see  the  tufted  caps 


Sadler  in  Portate  59 

of  the  suppressed  soldiery.  Then  he  let  a 
steaming  arch  out  of  the  hose  pipe,  that 
vaulted  the  distance  and  soaked  the  steers 
man,  who  howled  and  lay  down.  Then  the 
Juanita  ploughed  on,  and  Sadler  played  his 
hose,  as  she  passed,  through  the  windows 
of  the  deck  house,  where  there  were 
crashes  and  other  noises,  and  Irish's 
engine  kept  on  chug-chugging  in  the 
chest  of  the  Harvest  Moon.  The  Juan 
ita  went  out  of  reach,  and  the  soldiery 
poured  out  on  deck  disorderly  and  furious, 
and  Sadler  pulled  me  flat  beside  him,  sup 
posing  they  might  open  a  volley  of  musketry 
on  us,  but  they  didn't.  Then  he  got  up. 
"  They  give  me  the  colic,"  he  says,  and  Irish 
put  his  head  up  the  companion  way,  and 
says :  "  The  wather  was  too  hot,"  he  says 
and  blew  his  fingers,  and  Sadler  gave  a 
groan. 

"  There's  my  luck !  "  he  says.  "  I  meant 
to  tell  Irish  to  take  the  boil  off  and  forgot 
it.  Now  their  skins  '11  peel.  You  go  away, 


60  Sadler  in  Portate 

Tommy.  You  go  ashore.  You  can't  do 
me  no  good/' 

He  looked  sheepish  and  troubled.  When 
I  pulled  away,  he  sat  staring  down,  with  his 
back  turned,  his  boots  dangling  over  the 
water,  and  his  shoulders  bent.  He  certainly 
felt  bad. 

The  Superintendent  of  the  Transport 
Company  was  named  Dorcas,  a  bustling, 
heavy-bearded  man  that  you  couldn't  hold 
still  and  that  talked  fast  and  jerky  like  a 
piston  rod. 

I  met  him  in  the  Plaza  next  morning  go 
ing  into  the  City  Hall. 

"Come  on,"  he  says.  "We'll  fix  it. 
What?  Jefe  was  stuck.  Come  to  me. 
Now  then.  Got  an  idea.  Suit  him  first- 
rate.  You  see.  Struck  me  this  morning," 
says  Dorcas.  "  Suit  everybody." 

We  came  to  the  Mayor's  office,  and 
found  Sadler,  sitting  alone  by  the  window 
and  looking  moodily  down  on  the  Plaza, 
where  the  chain  gang  from  the  City  Jail  was 


Sadler  in  Portate  61 

pretending  to  mend  the  pavement,  but  mostly 
loafing  and  quarrelling. 

"  Got  him ! "  said  Dorcas  joyfully. 
"  Thumped  up  the  Jefe.  First  he  cussed, 
then  he  calmed.  That's  his  way.  Be  up 
pretty  soon.  Hold  on !  Wait  for  the  Jefe." 

Sadler  nodded,  and  we  sat  and  watched 
the  chain  gang,  till  the  Mayor  came  in  out 
of  breath.  He  was  a  small,  stout  man  with 
a  military  goatee,  and  his  temper  was  such 
as  kept  the  resident  consuls  happy  with  their 
diplomacy.  He  snorted  at  Sadler,  and  sat 
down. 

"  Now,  Excellency/'  Dorcas  says,  "  this 
way.  Understand  your  position.  All  right. 
Reasonable.  First,  if  Pete  Hillary  is  Ja 
maican,  he's  no  citizen  of  Portate.  See  ?  No 
good,  anyway.  No.  British  consul,  he  don't 
care,  except  for  the  principle.  Not  really. 
No.  You  want  to  pacify  him,  meaning  his 
principle.  That's  so.  Then  that  Hottentot 
Society.  Got  to  fix  them.  Course  you 
have.  Don't  want  to  disoblige  honest  voters 


62  Sadler  in  Portate 

of  Ferdinand  Street.  No.  Third ;  you  got 
to  celebrate  the  majesty  of  laws  and  mu 
nicipal  guards.  Good.  Last ;  the  Transport 
Company.  We  don't  want  the  Kid  to  chew 
his  thumbs  in  jail  for  wetting  folks.  Good 
land!  No!  You  want  to  satisfy  us. 
Complicated,  ain't  it?  But  you're  equal  to 
it.  You're  a  good  one,  Jefe.  Sure.  Now 
what's  needed?  Something  bold.  Some 
thing  skilful.  We  have  it!  Get  him  ban 
ished,  Excellency.  Get  him  banished.  Ex 
ecutive  Edict  from  the  President.  Big  gun. 
Hottentots  pleased  and  scared.  Majesty 
of  Great  Britain  pacified.  Majesty  of  mu 
nicipal  guards  celebrated.  Transport  Com 
pany  don't  object.  Everybody  happy. 
There,  now ! " 

He  put  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his 
vest,  leaned  back  and  beamed. 

"  Hum !     You  assist  ?  "  says  the  Mayor. 

"  We  do." 

The  Mayor  gazed  at  him  fierce  for  a 
minute,  then  he  smiled  and  patted  his  knee. 


Sadler  in  Portate  63 

"  It  is,  perhaps,  Senor  Dorcas,  not  impos 
sible." 

"  There  now,  Kid !    Fixed  you." 

Sadler  said  nothing,  but  looked  down 
at  the  chain  gang  below.  The  Plaza  was 
full  of  people,  women  talking  under  the 
stiff  palms,  and  men  sitting  on  wicker  chairs 
on  the  hotel  piazza  opposite.  The  butcher 
on  the  corner  was  chasing  away  a  dog. 

"  It  won't  do,"  says  Sadler  mournfully, 
at  last.  "  It's  more  interestin'  than  I'd  sup 
pose  you  was  up  to,  but  comparatively  it's 
dull.  Besides,  it  ain't  safe.  I'd  have  to 
come  back  and  see  how  bad  I  was  banished. 
That's  certain.  Not  that  I'd  throw  you 
down  this  way,  Excellency,"  he  says  with  sad 
eyes  on  the  Mayor  and  a  deep  voice,  "  I 
wouldn't  do  it,"  he  says,  "  without  puttin' 
up  another  scheme,  for  it  wouldn't  be  treat 
ing  you  upright.  But  makin'  a  supposition, 
now,  suppose  I  was  arrested  some,  and  set 
to  bossin'  that  gang  out  there  for  the  bene 
fit  of  Portate,  and  quartered,  for  safe  keep- 


64  Sadler  in  Portate 

in'  till  the  trial,  at  the  Hotel  Republic,  as 
a  partial  return  for  being  exhibited  in  dis 
grace.  And  suppose  it  took  me  three  days 
to  finish  that  little  job  they're  potterin'  with, 
by  that  time  I'd  be  ready  to,  let's  say,  to 
escape,  say,  on  the  steamer  that  sails  for 
Lima  on  Thursday.  I'm  a  broken  and 
tremblin'  reed,  Jefe.  That's  me.  I  shrinks, 
I  fades  away.  The  majestic  law's  too  much 
for  me.  And  suppose  you  was  to  fix  up  a 
Proclamation  subsequent  and  immejiate, 
offerin'  a  reward  for  me.  Now,  as  to  fugi 
tive,  or  as  to  exile,  lookin'  at  it  from  my 
standpoint,  I  makes  my  choice.  I  says, 
fugitive.  It  suits  me  better.  It's  elegant 
and  inexpensive.  I  ain't  worthy  of  an  Ex 
ecutive  Edict.  As  a  fugitive  I  wouldn't  have 
to  fidgit  to  get  even  with  you.  But  take 
your  standpoint,  Excellency.  There's  in 
iquitous  limits  to  you.  For  instance,  you 
can't  put  up  an  Executive  Edict  by  your 
self.  Consequence  is,  there's  no  glory  in  it 
for  you.  But  you  can  put  up  a  Proclama- 


Sadler  in  Portate  65 

tion,  runnin'  like  this :  '  Five  hundred  dol 
lars  reward  for  capture  and  return  of  one 
Sadler,  that  committed  humiliatin'  assault 
on  one  Hillary,  and  sp'iled  the  stomachs 
and  b'iled  the  skins  of  patriotic  municipal 
guardsmen,  which  shameful  person  is  more'n 
six  feet  of  iniquity,  and  his  features  homely 
beyond  belief,  complexion  dilapidated,  and 
conscience  dyspeptic.'  Of  course.  Excel 
lency,  there  couldn't  anybody  give  you  points 
on  a  Proclamation.  I  ain't  doin'  that,  but  I 
was  supposin'  it  was  printed  in  the  national 
colours,  with  a  spectacular  reward  preced- 
in'  a  festival  of  language.  Printed,  posted, 
and  scattered  over  Ferdinand  Street  and  the 
British  Consulate,  what  happens?  British 
majesty  pacified,  Ferdinand  Street  solid  for 
a  Mayor  that  puts  that  value  on  Pete  Hillary, 
Transport  Company  don't  object.  Every 
body  happy,  except  me.  Don't  mind  me. 
I  go  my  lonesome  way." 

Sadler     turned     away,     depressed,     and 
looked  at  the  chain  gang  in  the  Plaza.    The 


66  Sadler  in  Portate 

Mayor's  eyes  glistened.  Dorcas  pulled  his 
beard,  and  he  says: 

"  There'd  be  more  in  it  for  you,  Excel 
lency,  that's  a  fact." 

The  Mayor  came  over  and  patted  Sad 
ler  on  the  shoulder,  and  his  voice  showed 
emotion. 

"  My  friend,  be  not  sad.  To  be  sacrificed 
to  public  policy  is  noble." 

"  Recollect  that  Proclamation,  Excel 
lency,"  says  Sadler.  "  You  can't  describe 
me  too  villainous." 

"  I  will  remember,"  says  the  Mayor  in 
a  broken  voice.  "  I  will  remember." 

"  And  you  won't  go  under  five  hundred," 
says  Sadler.  "  It  '11  be  a  tribute  to  your 
private  respect,  just  between  you  and  me, 
as  friends  that  might  never  meet  again." 

"  I  will  remember.  My  friend !  Yet  be 
firm,"  says  the  Mayor. 

Sadler  left  the  hall  with  a  file  of  pink 
soldiers,  who  acted  sly  and  kept  aside  from 
him,  as  not  knowing  in  what  direction  he 


Sadler  in  Portate  67 

might  be  dangerous.  He  was  put  in  charge 
of  the  chain  gang,  and  introduced  them  to 
sorrow  and  haste,  and  he  spent  his  three 
days  at  the  Hotel  Republic,  taking  things 
joyful  at  the  bar  at  municipal  expense. 
There  were  soirees  on  the  hotel  piazza  and 
terror  in  the  chain  gang.  By  the  rate  the 
work  went  on  in  the  Plaza,  he  was  worth  the 
expense.  The  only  point  where  he  didn't 
appear  scrupulous  was  going  around  to  bid 
people  good-bye,  which  seemed  simple- 
hearted  and  affecting  in  a  way,  but  it  har 
rowed  the  Mayor's  feelings.  He  said  they 
were  harrowed.  He  got  nervous.  For  if 
a  man  agrees  to  be  a  fugitive,  and  to  escape 
in  a  way  described  by  himself  as  a  shrinking 
and  fading  away,  it  stands  to  reason  he 
oughtn't  to  make  too  much  fuss  about  it; 
nor  tell  the  British  consul  that  the  Mayor 
was  going  to  assassinate  him,  which  was  the 
reason  for  "  these  here  adieus,"  to  which 
the  British  consul  said,  "Gammon!"  Yet 
this  seemed  to  be  the  idea  current  in 


68  Sadler  in  Portate 

Ferdinand  Street,  and  was  why  the  Hotten 
tot  Society  were  peaceful  for  the  time  being. 
But  it  made  the  Mayor  nervous  the  way 
Portate  was  keyed  up  for  tragedy,  and  the 
way  Sadler  acted  as  if  he  wasn't  going  to 
escape  real  mysterious.  For  the  Mayor  had 
to  please  the  British  consul  and  Ferdinand 
Street  and  the  Transport  Company ;  but  the 
Hottentots  were  skittish,  and  the  Mayor  was 
nervous. 

On  Thursday  morning  the  dock  was 
crowded  with  Sadler's  friends,  come  to 
watch  him  escape,  and  some  who  heard  he 
was  to  try  it,  and  thought  to  see  him 
grabbed  by  the  City  Guard.  They  expected 
a  surprise.  It  puzzled  them  when  the  strip 
of  water  widened  between  the  steamer  and 
the  pier. 

Irish  wasn't  there,  though  I  had  sup 
posed  he  would  go  with  Sadler ;  but  the  Brit 
ish  and  American  consuls  were  there,  and 
Dorcas,  with  others  of  the  Transport  Com 
pany,  people  from  the  Hotel  Republic,  and 


Sadler  in  Portate  69 

Hillary,  and  a  lot  of  negroes  from  Ferdinand 
Street.  I  heard  the  British  consul  say  to 
the  American  consul :  "  You  know,  of  course, 
that's  what  you  call  a  '  put  up  job  ' — one 
of  your  Americanisms,"  he  says. 

"  Shucks !  You  don't  care/'  says  the 
American  consul. 

"  But  really,  you  know,  it's  not  decent," 
says  the  British  consul. 

Sadler  stood  on  the  after  deck  of  the 
steamer  with  his  hat  off,  same  as  if  he  was 
asking  a  benediction  on  Portate. 

An  hour  later  the  steamer  was  out  of 
sight  and  the  proclamations  were  posted  in 
Ferdinand  Street,  and  the  Plaza,  and  at  the 
consulates :  "  Three  hundred  dollars  reward 
for  the  capture  and  return,  dead  or  alive, 
of  one  known  as  *  Kid  Sadler,'  a  fugitive 
from  public  justice,  who  committed  feloni 
ous  and  insulting  assault  on  Pedro  Hillary, 
the  well-known  and  respected  resident  of 
Ferdinand  Street.  It  is  suspected,"  says  the 
Proclamation,  "  that,  if  still  in  the  city,  he 


jo  Sadler  in  Portate 

will  endeavour  to  escape  by  steamer  in  dis 
guise.  Description." 

Which  description  of  him  was  remark 
able  for  length  and  scorn. 

I  heard  the  American  consul  say  to  the 
British  consul ;  "  I'll  tell  you  what  that  is, 
old  man.  That's  a  porous  plaster.  It  has 
some  holes,  but  it's  meant  to  cover  your  in 
decency." 

That  Thursday  night  I  sat  alone  on  the 
deck  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar.  It  was  near 
ten  o'clock.  I  saw  a  flamingo  rise  from  the 
river,  and  it  flew  over  the  Helen  Mar,  like 
a  ghost,  trailing  its  legs. 

And  the  ladder  creaked,  and  Sadler  came 
over  the  side.  He  stepped  soft  and  long  like 
a  ghost. 

"  How  do  ?  "  he  says,  and  sat  down,  and 
twankled  his  banjo. 

Then  I  asked,  "Why?  What  for?"  I 
says,  "  I  don't  see  it,"  I  says.  "  It  ain't  rea 
sonable."  It  was  well  enough  for  a  fla 
mingo,  but  a  man  has  responsibilities.  It's 


Sadler  in  Portate  71 

not  right  for  him  to  be  a  floating  object 
that's  no  such  thing.  He's  got  no  business 
to  be  impossible,  unless  he  explains  himself. 
I  stated  that  opinion  pretty  sharp,  but  Sadler 
was  calm. 

"  Irish  hooked  the  Harvest  Moon,"  he 
says,  "  and  lay  outside  for  the  steamer.  I 
jumped  overboard." 

"  Changed  your  mind  ?  " 

"  Well,  I'd  thought  some  of  enlisting  for 
the  Chilian  War,  but  Irish  don't  like  war. 
Gives  him  the  fidgits.  I  made  a  '  Farewell ' 
going  out.  I  thought  I'd  come  round  and 
tell  it  to  you."  He  sang  hoarsely  as  fol 
lows  : 

"  Tommy  and  Dorcas,  now  adieu; 
I  drops  a  briny  tear  on, 
Mayor,  my  memories  of  you; 
Stevey  that  brought  the  beer  on; 
Farewell  across  the  waters  blue, 
Oh,  Jiron. 

14  Farewell  the  nights  of  ba'my  smell, 
Farewell  the  alligator, 
Special  them  little  ones  that  dwell 
In  the  muck  hole  with  their  mater. 
Farewell,  Portate,  oh,  farewell, 
Equator." 


72  Sadler  in  Portate 

"  You  see/'  he  says,  "  the  point  of  going 
to  war  is  this  way,  because 

"  The  damage  you  do 
Ain't  totted  to  you 
But  explained  by  the  habits  of  nations. 

"  Government  pays  the  bills,  commissary, 
sanitary,  and  them  that's  sent  to  God  Al 
mighty.  I  guess  so.  But  it'd  give  Irish 
the  fidgits.  Then  the  Transport's  got  a 
three-master  billed  for  San  Francisco,  and 
she  sails  to-morrow  morning,  and  we're 
going  on  her."  He  seemed  subdued,  and 
hummed  and  strummed  on  his  banjo,  as  if 
he  couldn't  get  hold  of  what  he  wanted  to 
let  out.  At  last  he  struck  up  a  monotonous 
thing  that  had  no  tune,  and  sang  again: 
"  One  day,"  he  says, 

"  One  day  I  struck  creation, 
And  I  says  in  admiration, 
'  What's  this  here  combination?' 
Then  I  done  a  heap  of  sin. 
I  hain't  no  education, 
Nor  kin. 

"  There's  something  I  would  say,  boys, 
Of  the  life  I  throwed  away,  boys, 
It  cackles,  but  don't  lay,  boys, 


Sadler  in  Portate  73 

There's  a  word  that  won't  come  out. 
The  hell  I  raised  I'll  pay,  boys, 
Just  about. 

"  Tommy/'  he  says  then,  "  I'm  leaving  you. 
You  ain't  going  to  have  my  sheltering  wing 
no  more.  Write  down  these  here  maxims 
in  your  memory,  supposing  I  never  see  you 
no  more.  Any  game  is  good  that  '11  hold  up 
a  bet.  Any  sort  of  life  is  good  so  long  as  it 
has  a  good  risk  in  it.  The  worth  of  any 
thing  depends  on  how  much  you've  staked 
on  it.  Him  that  draws  most  of  the  potluck 
in  this  world  is  the  same  that  drops  most  in. 
The  man  that  puts  up  his  last  coin  as  keen 
as  when  he  put  up  his  first,  he'll  sure  win  in 
the  end.  Lastly,  Tommy,  if  you  want  a 
backer  inquire  for  Sadler.  So  long." 

He  got  up  to  leave,  and  stood  a  moment 
looking  away  into  the  moonlight.  I  says: 

"  The  Mayor's  Proclamation's  out,  Kid." 

"  Yep.  I  got  it  somewhere  about.  I  just 
been  to  see  him." 

He  had  the  Proclamation  in  his  hand. 

"  Burned  little  runt,"  he  says.    "  He  cut 


74  Sadler  in  Portate 

me  down  two  hundred  dollars  on  that  re 
ward,  plump !  And  he'd  gi'n  me  his  word ! 
Why,  you  heard  him!  He  ought  to  be 
ashamed.  I  told  him  so.  I  says,  *  You're 
no  lady.'  Nor  he  ain't.  Nor  sporty,  either. 
Squeals  and  wriggles." 

"  Paid  you  the  reward,  did  he  ?  " 
"Why,  of  course,  he  couldn't  rn/ss  his 
politics.  It  took  him  sudden,  though.  He 
had  a  series  of  fits  that  was  painful,  painful." 
Then  he  moved  away,  muttering,  "  Painful, 
painful ! "  climbed  over  the  side,  and  down 
the  ladder,  and  went  to  California. 


CHAPTER  V 

of  tbe  "fcotel  fjelen  /Bar.     Continuation 
of  Captain  JSucfctngbam's  Narrative 

SADLER  and  Irish  were  gone,  but 
Stevey  Todd  and  I  stayed  on  at 
Portate,  running  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar. 
Three  years  we  ran  her  altogether,  and  made 
money.  I  had  a  thought  that  by-and-by 
I'd  go  to  the  Isthmus,  and  charter  some  kind 
of  sloop,  and  dig  out  Clyde's  canvas  bags, 
and  so  go  back  to  Greenough  sticky  with 
glory.  Whether  it  was  laziness  or  ambition 
kept  me  so  long  at  Portate  I  couldn't  say. 
It  was  a  pleasant  life.  It's  a  country  where 
you  don't  notice  time.  Yet  its  politics  are 
lively,  and  the  very  land  has  malaria,  as  you 
might  say;  it  has  periodic  shakes,  earth 
quakes,  "  tremblors,"  they  call  them,  or 
"  trembloritos,"  according  to  size. 

It  was  early  one  morning,  in  the  spring 
75 


j6    End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

of  the  year  '73,  that  Stevey  Todd  woke  me 
up,  and  he  says  : 

"  I'm  feeling  unsteady  like.  Seems  like 
the  Helen  Mar  wobbled/' 

"  She's  took  sick,"  I  says,  sarcastic,  "  she's 
got  the  toothache." 

The  only  thing  I  had  against  Stevey 
Todd  was,  he  was  timid  and  had  bad  dreams. 
He  rode  a  tidal  wave  every  two  or  three 
nights,  according  to  account.  But  it  wasn't 
right  to  be  messing  another  man's  sleep  with 
tidal  waves  that  didn't  belong  to  the  other 
man.  I  never  set  any  tidal  waves  on  him. 
I  spoke  up  to  Stevey  Todd  that  time,  and 
went  on  deck,  and  saw  the  Sarasara  with  an 
umbrella  over  her  head,  and  I  thought, 
maybe,  there  had  been  a  little  shake,  and 
maybe  she  was  out  looking  for  trouble. 

It  came  on  the  middle  of  the  morning. 
The  drivers  that  put  up  with  us  that  night 
were  gone  down  the  valley  with  their  mules. 
I  heard  Stevey  Todd  whoop  down  below, 
and  he  came  on  deck  and  he  says,  "  She's 


End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar    77 

wobbling  again !  ''  meaning  the  Helen  Mar. 
She  was  swaying  to  and  fro.  We  got  down 
the  ladder  and  stood  off  to  look  at  her. 

Then  the  land  began  twisting  like  snakes 
under  our  feet,  and  cut  figure  eights,  till 
I  felt  like  soapsuds,  and  lay  down  on  my 
face.  Then  I  sat  up,  and  looked  at  the  Helen 
Mar,  which  shook  and  groaned  like  a  live 
thing.  We  heard  the  trees  crack  and  snap 
behind  her.  She  seemed  to  hang  a  moment 
as  if  she  hated  to  go ;  and  over  she  went  with 
a  shriek  and  crash.  The  water  splashed  and 
the  dust  went  up.  Stevey  Todd  and  I  ran 
to  the  bank,  and  there  lay  the  Hotel  Helen 
Mar,  ridiculous,  bottom  side  up  in  the  Jiron 
River. 

Stevey  Todd  sat  down  and  cried. 

I  was  disgusted  with  seeing  the  hotel 
standing  on  her  roof-garden  and  thinking 
of  the  mess  there  was  inside  her,  all  come 
of  a  tremblorito  no  bigger  than  enough  to 
cave  in  the  bank  and  tip  the  Helen  Mar  over, 
and  enough  tidal  wave  to  wash  the  streets 


78    End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

of  Portate,  which  needed  it.  I  saw  the 
Sarasara  shaking  her  old  umbrella  at  us, 
and  I  was  mad.  I  says  to  Stevey  Todd, 
"  Go  on !  Run  your  blamed  old  hotel  stand 
ing  on  your  head !  "  I  says,  "  I'm  going  to 
Greenough,"  and  I  lit  out  for  Portate,  leav 
ing  him  standing  on  the  bank,  with  the  tears 
running  down  his  face,  like  his  heart  was 
broken. 

When  I  came  to  the  harbour  I  found 
there  were  two  ships  in  port  bound  for  Cali 
fornia,  and  one  by  way  of  Panama.  She 
was  named  the  Jane  Allen. 

The  captain's  name  was  Rickhart,  a 
rough  man,  and  the  Jane  Allen  was  an  un 
clean  boat,  a  brigantine,  come  from  bad 
weather  around  the  Horn.  I  went  aboard 
to  look  her  over,  and  didn't  like  her.  I  was 
making  up  my  mind  to  go  and  see  if  the 
other  mightn't  be  going  by  Panama  too. 
And  then,  coming  through  the  forecastle, 
some  one  spoke  to  me  from  a  bunk  and  he 
says: 


End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar    79 

"  When'd  you  drop  in,  Tommy?"  and  I 
stopped,  and  stared,  and  pretty  soon  I  made 
him  out.  It  was  Julius  R.  Craney. 

He  certainly  was  sick.  He  said  he  had 
shipped  with  Rickhart  from  New  York,  to 
go  to  California  and  make  his  fortune,  but 
thought  now  he  wouldn't  live  so  far.  He 
had  the  scurvy  and  was  low  in  his  mind,  and 
disappointed  with  fortune.  I  thought: 

"  If  he  took  my  money  at  Colon,  he  hasn't 
got  it  now."  He  was  poor  enough  then.  I 
guessed  we'd  have  to  call  that  off,  and  I 
says: 

"  The  Jane  Allen  it  is.  I'll  go  see  the 
Windwards  and  Greenough." 

Craney  was  a  yellow-looking  man  at 
that  time,  and  glad  enough  when  I  told  him 
I  was  going  to  bring  him  some  fruit,  and 
take  passage  to  Panama,  and  look  after  him. 
Then  I  bargained  with  Rickhart  for  a  pas 
sage  for  two. 

The  next  day  I  went  back  up  to  the 
Helen  Mar,  and  found  Stevey  Todd  had  a 


8o    End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

board  fence  in  front  of  her,  and  was  charg 
ing  admission,  and  he  had  a  new  advertise 
ment  tacked  on  the  fence. 

"Unparalleled  Spectacle!"  says  Stevey 
Todd's  bill-poster.  "The  Hotel  Helen 
Mar.  On  her  chimneys,  with  her  cellar  in 
the  Air !  Built  in  the  United  States !  Ex 
ported  to  South  America!  Freighted  In 
land  by  a  Tidal  Wave !  Stood  on  her  Head 
by  an  Earthquake!  Only  10  cents!"  And 
he  was  up  on  a  box  himself  encouraging  the 
populace,  and  he  seemed  to  think  he  had  a 
good  business  opening.  But  I  says : 

"  Stevey,"  I  says,  "  come  off  it.  We're 
going  to  Panama." 

He  wanted  to  argue  it  was  an  unparal- 
lelled  show,  but  I  took  him  by  the  suspenders 
and  ran  him  down  to  Portate,  arguing,  and 
the  populace  went  in  free,  and  we  went 
aboard  the  Jane  Allen.  He  thought  the 
Helen  Mar  was  a  better  boat  upside  down 
than  the  Jane  Allen  any  side,  and  he  was 
right  there,  for  the  Jane  Allen  was  full  of 


End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar    81 

smells  and  unhealthiness.  But  Craney  was 
glad  to  see  us. 

We  hadn't  been  a  week  at  sea  before  her 
cook  came  down  with  ship's  fever  and  died  in 
five  days,  but  Craney  picked  up  a  bit  for  the 
time.  Rickhart  came  straight  for  Stevey 
Todd,  and  handed  him  his  passage  money. 

"  You're  no  passenger,"  he  says.  "  You're 
a  cook.  You  hear  me !  "  Which  appeared 
like  a  rash  statement,  that  Stevey  Todd  was 
n't  one  to  take  off-hand  like  that  without  argu 
ment,  but  Rickhart  shoved  him  into  the  gal 
ley  before  he  got  his  ideas  arranged  right. 

"  You're  the  Jane  Allen's  cook,"  says 
Rickhart,  and  appeared  to  be  right,  though 
his  style  of  argument  wasn't  what  Clyde  had 
trained  us  to.  Stevey  Todd  had  no  proper 
outfit  to  meet  it.  The  victuals  he  had  to 
serve  up  on  the  Jane  Allen  was  a  worriment 
to  his  conscience  too,  being  tainted  and  bad, 
and  by-and-by  I  came  down  too  with 
ship's  fever,  and  Craney  got  sicker  again 
with  scurvy. 


82    End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

There's  a  long  promontory,  that  the  coast 
ers  see  on  the  West  Coast  of  South  Amer 
ica  near  the  Line,  with  a  square  white 
tower  on  a  bit  of  high  rock  at  the  head  of 
it.  The  promontory  is  called  Mituas,  and 
the  point,  Punta  Ananias.  That  may  be 
because  some  one  ran  aground  sometime  on 
the  sand-bar  off  the  end,  and  thought  it  de 
ceitful.  Some  people  say  the  tower  was 
built  as  an  outlook  against  pirates  long  ago, 
but  I  judge  the  facts  are  everybody  has  for 
gotten  who  built  it  or  what  he  did  it  for. 
It's  a  lighthouse  now.  If  a  man  doesn't 
mind  a  curve  in  his  view  and  a  few  pin-head 
islands,  there's  nothing  particular  to  inter 
rupt  his  view  half  round  the  world.  The 
Andes  make  a  jagged  line  on  the  east,  and 
ten  of  them  are  volcanoes.  Those  snow 
mountains  and  two  or  three  ocean  currents 
got  together,  and  arranged  it  with  the  equa 
tor  that  one  part  of  the  year  should  be  a 
good  deal  like  another  there,  and  all  the 
months  behave  respectful,  and  the  Tower  of 


End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar    83 

Ananias  have  a  breeze.  It's  a  handsome 
position  with  a  picked  climate. 

The  scurvy  is  a  disease  not  so  common 
now,  but  it  used  to  act  as  if  all  the  bad  salt 
pork  you'd  eaten  were  coming  out  through 
the  skin,  till  you  looked  like  a  Stilton  cheese, 
and  what  you  wanted  was  to  be  fed  on  vege 
tables,  and  put  ashore  so  as  to  get  the  bilge- 
water  dried  out.  Probably  that  wouldn't 
be  possible,  and  you'd  be  sewed  up  in  can 
vas,  and  resemble  an  exclamation  point,  and 
be  dropped  overboard  to  punctuate  the  end 
of  the  story.  Chunk!  you  goes,  and  that's 
the  end  of  you. 

Ship's  fever  is  a  nautical  brand  of  ty 
phoid,  due  to  bad  conditions  aboard.  The 
best  thing  for  it  is  to  get  out  of  those  con 
ditions.  Craney  had  the  scurvy,  and  I  had 
ship's  fever.  Sometimes  I  was  out  of  my 
head.  But  when  we  sighted  Punta  Anan 
ias,  I  was  clear  enough  to  tell  Captain  Rick- 
hart  he'd  have  a  burial  shortly,  or  put  me  on 
shore. 


84    End  of  the  Hotel  Helen  Mar 

"  I've  got  no  fancy  for  that,"  he  says, 
and  took  a  look  at  me.  I  didn't  suppose 
he'd  haul  up,  but  he  did.  He'd  buried  two 
men  already  down  the  coast,  and  the  thing 
must  have  got  on  his  nerves,  for  he  anchored 
overnight,  and  sent  Craney  and  me  to  the 
lighthouse  in  a  boat. 

"  You  forfeit  your  passage  money,"  he 
says,  and  told  the  mate  to  buy  what  truck 
he  could,  and  tell  the  Dago  in  the  light 
house  he  could  keep  our  remains. 

Rickhart  was  a  rough  man,  and  his  ship 
was  a  rotten  ship.  I  never  knew  a  meaner 
ship,  though  I've  known  meaner  men  than 
Rickhart  on  the  whole. 

Stevey  Todd  said  he  was  going  with  us, 
and  there  Rickhart  disagreed  with  him 
again,  and  his  argument  was  the  same  as 
before. 

"  You  ain't,"  he  says,  and  seemed  to 
prove  it,  though  Stevey  Todd  claimed  he 
wasn't  convinced. 


CHAPTER  VI 


(Torre  Snania0.     TOlbB   Captain  JSucfcfngbam 
BID  "Wot  (30  bacfc  to  (Breenougb 

WHEN  we  got  under  the  lee  of  the 
lighthouse,  the  keeper  came  stalk 
ing  down  the  rocks  to  meet  us.  He  was  a 
tall  man  with  a  long  moustache,  and  a  nar 
row  grey  beard,  and  a  black  coat  and  som 
brero. 

I  heard  the  mate  say : 

"  Here's  the  King  of  Castile  come  to 
Craney's  funeral.  Blamed  if  he  ain't  a 
whole  hearse!  " 

"  Without  doubt,"  says  the  keeper,  grave 
and  deep,  being  asked  about  the  fruit.  Re 
garding  sick  boarders,  he  broke  out  sharp, 

"  Since  when  has  my  house But  I  ask 

your  pardon !  You  are  strange  to  me.  No 
more.  The  gentlemen  will  do  me  the  honour 
to  be  my  guests." 

Nobody  appeared  to  have  anything  to 
85 


86  Torre  Ananias 

say  to  that,  but  he  looked  too  lean  to  recom 
mend  his  board.  His  Spanish  wasn't  the 
kind  I  was  used  to.  It  was  neither  West 
Coast  nor  Mexican.  I  judged  it  was  just 
Spanish. 

They  left  us  in  canvas  hammocks  on 
the  ground  floor  of  the  Tower  of  Ananias. 
It  was  three  stories  high,  the  top  story 
opened  to  seaward,  with  its  lanterns  and  tin 
reflectors. 

The  darkness  came  on,  as  its  habits  are 
in  the  tropics,  like  a  lamp  blown  out.  I 
could  see  the  stars  through  the  square  sea 
ward  window  of  the  tower,  and  heard  the 
keeper  go  softly  up  the  stairs,  and  I  went 
to  sleep,  very  weak  and  faint. 

When  morning  came,  and  I  pulled  my 
self  up  to  look  through  the  square  window, 
and  saw  the  ship  making  sail,  it  seemed  to 
me  I  was  some  sick  and  far  away  from 
everybody.  I  rubbed  my  eyes  and  looked 
around. 

The  door  and  stairway  filled  one  side  of 


Torre  Ananias  87 

the  room.  There  were  two  wooden  benches 
and  a  pile  of  earthen  and  tin  ware  on  one 
of  them.  The  hammocks  hung  between  the 
windows,  and  in  one  of  them  lay  Craney, 
looking  like  mouldy  cheese,  for  his  hair, 
eyebrows,  and  complexion  were  yellowish 
by  nature,  and  he  was  some  spotted  at  that 
time. 

Beyond  the  door  was  a  banana  tree, 
with  ten-foot  leaves,  and  a  little  black  mon 
key  loping  around  under  it,  sort  of  indiffer 
ent.  Beyond  the  banana  tree  came  thick 
woods.  A  woman  came  out  of  them  with 
a  basket  on  her  head,  up  the  path  to  the 
tower.  The  monkey  yelped  and  went  up 
the  banana  tree.  "  Dios !  "  says  the  woman, 
when  she  came  to  the  door,  and  she  put  down 
the  basket  and  ran.  The  keeper  came  down 
the  stone  stairs  and  ran  silently  after  her. 
The  little  black  monkey  dropped  from  his 
tree  and  loped  after  the  keeper,  and  the 
woods  swallowed  them  all.  A  sea-breeze 
was  blowing  into  the  tower,  and  below  I 


Torre  Ananias 


could  hear  the  pound  of  the  surf.  Craney 
slept  as  innocent  as  if  he'd  been  fresh  cheese, 
and  I  felt  better. 

Then  the  keeper  came  back  with  the 
woman,  who  appeared  to  be  a  scared  Indian 
and  screeched  some.  He  said  her  name 
was  Titiaca,  and  she  would  look  after  us, 
but  otherwise  had  no  culture.  Craney  woke 
up  and  took  a  look  at  things. 

"  I  have  already,"  the  keeper  says  very 
solemn,  "  the  advantage  of  your  honourable 
names.  My  own  is  Gaspero  Raphael  de 
Avila  y  Mituas."  He  stated  it  so,  and  went 
up  the  stairs.  I  dropped  one  leg  out  of  the 
hammock,  and  I  says  thoughtful: 

"  I  always  had  hard  luck.  They  just 
named  me  Tom  and  chucked  me." 

Titiaca  knocked  her  head  on  the  floor  and 
screeched,  but  at  that  time  I  didn't  see  what 
for.  She  appeared  to  think  the  keeper  was 
displeased. 

It  was  monotonous  lying  all  day  in  the 
tower,  seeing  only  Titiaca,  and  now  and 


Torre  Ananias  89 

then  the  black-cloaked  keeper,  stiff,  silent, 
and  solemn,  and  polite.  But  the  days  went 
by,  and  by-and-by  we  began  to  crawl  out 
and  lie  in  the  seaward  shadow,  and  sometimes 
under  the  banana  tree,  where  the  little  black 
monkey  loped  around  melancholy.  We 
grew  better.  Titiaca  gossiped,  and  told  us 
the  keeper  was  a  magician,  and  master  of 
the  winds,  and  probably  the  bestower  of 
rain  and  sunshine,  and  certain  his  light  in 
the  tower  was  connected  underground  with 
one  of  the  volcanoes,  so  that  he  could  tap 
different  grades  of  earthquakes,  graded  as 
"  motors,  trembloritos,  and  tremblers, "  ac 
cording  to  size. 

"  For,  see!  "  she  says;  "  at  night  it  is  the 
red  smoke  of  the  mountain — all  night!  it  is 
the  light  in  the  tower — all  night!  it  is  him 
self  in  the  tower — all  night — all  day!  He 
speaks  not.  Is  it  not  so?  The  ground 
shivers.  He  says  nothing.  It  is  the  magic. 
Ah-h-h!  The  magic!" 

Craney  grew  so  well  and  restless  after  a 


90  Torre  Ananias 

week  or  two  that  he  began  strolling,  and 
finally  one  day  he  went  down  the  path  that 
Titiaca  came  by.  For  she  said  there  was 
a  village,  and,  beyond  other  villages  and 
cocoa  plantations,  fishermen  along  the  shore, 
many  people,  though  only  footpaths  ran 
through  the  woods.  Her  gossip  lacked 
variety,  and  the  little  black  monkey  took  no 
interest  in  me  at  all.  It  appeared  to  me 
things  were  unnatural  dull,  and  I  went  to 
the  tower  and  called.  The  keeper  an 
swered,  and  I  went  up,  and  hoped  I  wasn't 
in  his  way.  The  middle  story  was  like  the 
one  below,  except  for  a  table,  chair,  bed, 
and  a  few  plain  articles. 

"  On  the  contrary/'  he  says,  "  if  you  will 
do  me  the  honour  to  precede,"  and  motioned 
to  the  stair  leading  to  the  lantern  story, 
which  was  roofed,  but  open  on  all  sides, 
and  along  the  seaward  wall  was  a  stone 
bench. 

It's  good,  now  and  then,  as  a  man  lives 
on,  if  something  or  some  one  comes  along 


Torre  Ananias  91 

that  gives  him  a  new  notion  of  things.  At 
first  it  surprises  him;  then  he  thinks  there 
might  be  something  in  it ;  and  then  maybe  he 
gets  so  waterlogged  and  cosmopolitan  as  to 
admit  an  oyster's  notions  might  be  as  rea 
sonable  as  his. 

As  near  as  I  could  come  to  it  the  keeper 
was  a  Spaniard  of  a  run-down  family, — at 
least  one  branch  of  it  was  run  down  to  him. 
It  was  old  and  uncommon  proud,  and  had 
different  kinds  of  decorated  names.  It  be 
gan  with  being  a  legend;  then  it  seemed  to 
have  a  deal  of  trouble  with  Moors,  and  got 
rich  with  the  results  of  trouble;  then  it 
owned  some  of  that  section  of  the  New 
World,  including  twenty  to  thirty  thousand 
natives  in  the  property.  That  was  the  story 
of  the  family.  But  what  they  had  they 
spent,  or  lost,  or  had  confiscated,  till 
there  was  nothing  much  but  the  story. 
Now  here's  what  surprised  me.  For  the 
thought  of  his  race  was  in  his  bones,  same  as 
the  sea  is  in  mine.  For  instance,  it  seems  to 


92  Torre  Ananias 

me  I'm  more  to  the  point  than  my  ancestors, 
on  account  of  being  alive.  I  don't  much 
know  who  they  were.  I'm  a  separate  island, 
with  maybe  a  few  other  islands,  close  by. 
My  continental  connections  appear  to  be  sort 
of  submerged.  That's  the  average  Ameri 
can  way  of  looking  at  it,  and  he  wants  to  be 
a  credit  to  himself,  if  he  does  to  anybody. 
But  the  keeper's  notion  was  to  be  a  credit  to 
all  the  grandfathers  he  could  find  between 
the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  the  Con 
quest  of  Peru.  Those  of  the  last  hundred 
years  or  so  he  wasn't  particular  about,  but 
if  they'd  been  dead  long  enough  he'd  do  any 
thing  to  satisfy  them.  I  didn't  seem  to  sur 
round  the  idea  so  as  to  find  it  reasonable, 
but  I  got  so  far  as  to  see  it  was  a  large  one, 
and  there  was  some  kind  of  a  handsome 
ness  in  it. 

Speaking  of  points  of  view,  it  seemed  to 
me,  so  long  as  a  man  thought  a  heap  of 
something  besides  himself,  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  leeway  as  to  what  the  thing  was; 


Torre  Ananias  93 

maybe  his  children  and  the  folks  that  were 
coming  after  him;  maybe  the  folks  that 
went  before  him;  maybe  his  country,  or  a 
machine  he  had  invented,  or  a  ship  and 
those  aboard  he  was  responsible  for,  or  the 
copper  image  of  one  of  his  gods.  So  long 
as  he  stood  to  stake  his  life  on  it,  I  wasn't 
prepared  to  sniff  at  him. 

For  a  while  he  listened  to  my  talk  and 
said  nothing.  Then  he  began  and  went  off 
like  a  bottle  of  beer  that's  been  corked  over- 
long.  From  what  he  said  I  gathered  the 
facts  just  stated. 

"  The  stream  goes  dry,"  he  says  slowly 
at  last.  "  Therefore  I  came  from  Spain. 
What  do  I  know  of  the  new  laws  of  the 
colonists,  their  republic?  These  lands  are 
to  my  race  in  me,  from  the  point  to  the  bay, 
and  north  twenty  leagues;  so  runs  the 
charter:  so  witnesses  my  name,  Mituas, 
given  and  decreed  by  Charles,  the  king  and 
emperor,  to  Juan  de  Avila  y  Mituas,  the 
friend  of  Francisco  Pizarro,  who  was  an 


94  Torre  Ananias 

upstart  indeed,  but  a  valiant  man.  They 
say  to  me :  '  There  is  a  lighthouse  on  Punta 
Ananias.  For  the  keeping  of  the  light  is 
paid  this  much.  Sir,  be  pleased  in  this  man 
ner  to  occupy  your  estate.'  Do  I  care  for 
their  mocking?  Is  it  the  buzz  of  insects 
that  is  heard  in  Spain?  Good,  then!  I 
wait  for  my  end.  But  to  hear  an  Avila 
mocked  at  in  Spain  I  could  not  endure. 
You  do  not  understand?  It  is  natural. 
You  were  so  kind  as  to  tell  me  of  your  life 
— believe  me,  most  interesting — a  courtesy 
which  has  tempted  me  to  fatigue  you  in  this 
way." 

I  thought  his  yarn  a  sight  more  interest 
ing  than  mine,  and  said  so,  and  he  looked 
sort  of  blank,  as  if  he  didn't  see  how  you 
could  get  the  stories  of  an  Avila  and  a 
Yankee  seaman  near  enough  together  to 
compare  them,  more  than  a  dozen  eggs  with 
a  parallel  of  latitude.  But  his  manners 
stayed  by  him.  He  said  I  was  so  polite  as 
to  say  so,  and  then  was  silent,  sitting  on  his 


Torre  Ananias  95 

end  of  the  stone  bench  and  looking  grim  at 
the  sea. 

"Well,"  I  says,  "I've  got  nothing  to 
speak  of, — a  little  money,  no  relations, — 
but  I'd  hate  to  give  up  the  idea  of  seeing 
Long  Island  Sound  again,  and  the  town  of 
Greenough." 

"  Your  hope  is  a  possession  excellent,"  he 
says  very  quiet.  "  I  shall  not  see  again 
my  Madrid,  nor  those  vineyards  of  Ara- 
gon." 

By-and-by  the  keeper  seemed  too  melan 
choly  to  be  sociable.  I  went  back  to  the 
banana  tree. 

Titiaca  came.  She  said  Craney  had  gone 
inland. 

He  didn't  come  back  that  night,  and  not 
till  late  afternoon  of  the  next  day.  Then 
he  came  out  of  the  woods,  strolling  along, 
and  sat  down  under  the  banana  tree,  and 
acted  as  if  he  had  something  on  his  mind. 
I  told  him  about  the  keeper,  and  laid  out 
my  theory  about  his  having  a  handsome 


96  Torre  Ananias 


point  of  view,  but  one  that  needed  property 
to  keep  cheerful  with.  Craney  was  thought 
ful. 

"Property,  Tommy!"  he  says  at  last. 
'*  This  is  the  remarkablest  community  I  ever 
got  to.  The  old  man  told  you  right,  so  far 
as  he  knew.  I  guess  he  applied  for  four 
hundred  square  miles  of  ancestral  estate  and 
they  told  him  he  could  have  the  lighthouse 
job.  That's  so!  But  see  here.  He  don't 
really  know  what  his  job  is.  Lighthouse 
keeper!  My  galluses  and  garters!  He's 
the  tin  god  of  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  Injuns 
and  half-breeds.  I've  been  holding  camp- 
meetings  with  them.  Why,  he's  sitting  on 
a  liquid  gold  mine  that's  aching  to  run.  I'll 
tell  you.  I  went  from  here  to  Titiaca's 
village.  It's  on  the  shore  and  some  of  the 
people  are  fishermen,  and  I  talked  with 
them.  Then  I  got  a  donkey  and  rode  over 
by  plantations  where  they  raise  cocoa,  which 
appears  to  be  a  red  cucumber  full  of  beans, 
and  growing  on  an  apple  tree.  They  dry 


Torre  Ananias  97 

it,  and  take  it  in  boat-loads  up  a  bay  about 
forty  miles,  and  get  from  five  cents  a  pound 
upwards.  I  talked  with  them.  Then  I  met 
an  old  priest,  who  was  fat  and  slow  and 
peaceable.  I  went  in  a  sailboat  with  him  up 
the  coast  to  his  house,  and  spent  the  night. 
He  said  the  Injuns  of  this  neighbourhood 
were  more'n  half  heathen  in  their  minds, 
but  he  was  too  old,  and  settled  down  now, 
and  couldn't  help  it.  It  didn't  appear  to 
trouble  him  much.  He  wondered  if  Senor 
de  Avila  knew  he  was  that  gruesome  and 
popular;  and  then  he  mooned  along,  talk 
ing  sort  of  wandering,  till  near  midnight. 
The  Injuns  don't  think  his  credit  with  the 
gods  and  the  elements  amounts  to  much, 
anyway.  This  morning  I  crossed  to  the 
north  shore  and  saw  more  villages  and 
plantations,  and  came  back  to  Titiaca's  vil 
lage  in  a  catamaran  rigged  with  a  sprit- 
sail.  Now,  this  is  a  business  opening, 
Tommy.  And  look  here!  The  old  man's 
notions,  as  he  put  'em  to  you,  they're  a  good 


Torre  Ananias 


thing.  I  didn't  know  how  he'd  take  it,  but 
I  guess  we  can  fix  it.  You  see,  this  section — 
why,  Padre  Filippo  says  it  used  to  belong 
to  that  family  more  or  less,  but  the  titles 
were  called  off  when  the  country  set  up  for 
itself,  and  whether  they'd  collected  rent  up 
to  that  time  he  didn't  know.  He  thought 
they  hadn't  regular  or  much.  But  the  sec 
tion's  grown  well-to-do  lately  on  account  of 
the  cocoa  trade,  and  I  gather  what  the  In 
juns  pay  on  it  now  is  about  ordinary  taxes. 
Now,  if  the  Injuns  pay  the  old  man  a  sort 
of  blackmail  to  get  him  to  moderate  his 
earthquakes,  and  he  calls  it  his  proper  rents, 
why,  I  say,  a  rose  by  any  name  '11  smell  as 
sweet,  supposing  the  commission  for  collect 
ing  is  the  same.  That's  the  idea.  Why 
not?  All  he's  got  to  do  is  to  stay  in  his 
tower,  or  look  like  a  cross  between  the  devil 
and  a  prophet  when  he  does  show  himself, 
same  as  usual,  and  leave  us  to  work  his 
tribute.  It's  what  his  tenth  grandfather 
did.  I  guess  it  '11  be  mostly  dried  cocoa 


Torre  Ananias  99 

beans.  The  shed  where  the  old  man  keeps 
his  oil  will  do  for  a  warehouse." 
I  says,  "  What's  all  this,  anyway?  " 
"  Oh/'  he  says,  "  you'll  see  it's  reason 
able  by-and-by.  Why  not?  Why,  the 
campaign's  begun.  Some  of  the  stuff  is 
coming  in  to-morrow.  You've  no  notion 
how  they  cottoned  to  the  idea.  I  says  to 
'em  this  way.  *  Course,'  I  says,  '  I'm  a 
stranger,  but  it  stands  to  reason  the  Don 
won't  shake  anybody  out  of  bed  nights  that 
does  his  best  to  please  him.  Sure,  he'd  be 
reasonable.  But  here  he's  lived  on  the  little 
end  of  this  country  now  going  on  ten  years, 
and  what  have  you  done  ?  Nothing !  Here 
he's  been  switching  fire  back  and  forth  from 
the  Andes,'  I  says,  '  corking  up  one  vol 
cano  and  letting  out  another,  and  yet  he 
ain't  split  a  single  plantation  into  ribbons  so 
far.  Has  he,  now?  No.  Well,  ain't  it 
astonishing?  Why,  he  must  have  this 
whole  territory  riddled  with  pipe  connec 
tions.  Boys,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  so 


ioo  Torre  Ananias 


reckless,'  I  says,  '  and  ungrateful.  How 
long  do  you  expect  him  to  look  out  for  folks 
that  don't  appear  to  care  whether  they  blow 
up  or  not?  First  you  know,  he'll  get  dis 
gusted  and  turn  the  whole  section  into  cin 
ders.  He  must  have  been  mighty  cautious 
as  it  is.  Shook  you  up  a  little  now  and 
then.  Nothing  to  what  he's  liable  to  do. 
Suffering  saints ! '  I  says ;  *  can't  you  take  a 
hint?  What  do  you  suppose  he  means 
when  the  ground  wrinkles  under  your  feet? 
Do  you  want  him  to  pitch  you  all  into  the 
sea  before  you  get  his  idea  ? '  They  said 
they  hadn't  thought  of  that  before.  Fact 
is,  they  surprised  me.  They  must  have 
some  ancestral  ideas  of  their  own,  so  it 
comes  natural  to  'em  to  pay  for  their 
weather.  Tell  'em  they've  got  to  bribe  an 
earthquake,  and  they  say,  '  All  right/ 
Queer,  ain't  it?  '  Well/  I  says,  'tell  you 
what  I'll  do.  I'll  arrange  it  with  the  Don/ 
You've  no  notion  how  they  liked  the  idea, 
they're  that  scared  of  him.  I  guess  they'll 


Torre  Ananias  101 

put  up  various  amounts.  They  didn't 
understand  a  percentage.  Maybe  the  de 
tails  will  be  complicated.  Let's  go  see  the 
Don." 

The  keeper  was  in  his  lantern  story, 
looking  out  over  the  sea  very  lonesome. 
Craney  attacked  the  subject  like  a  drummer 
selling  a  bill  of  goods,  but  the  keeper  didn't 
seem  to  understand.  "  Why,"  says  Craney, 
"you  see,  these  people  have  a  sort  of  mys 
terious  reverence  for  you.  Maybe  you  have 
an  idea  of  the  reason."  The  keeper  said  it 
was  probable  that  the  peasantry  were  not  un 
aware  of  his  rank. 

"  Now,  your  ancestors  employed  agents, 
didn't  they?  Yes.  Maybe  they  got  about 
half  the  proceeds  and  the  agents  stole  the 
rest."  The  keeper  looked  surprised,  but 
thought  that  was  probable  too. 

"  Exactly.  Now,  we're  offering,  as  a 
business  proposition,  to  collect  on  the  same 
antique  terms,  only  we  give  you  an  itemized 
account  this  time.  What  do  you  say?  " 


IO2  Torre  Ananias 

"  Senor  Craney,"  said  the  keeper  slowly, 
"  are  you  asking  me  if  I  accept  the  acknowl 
edgment  of  my  rights?  I  do  not  under 
stand  a  business  proposition.  I  do  not 
understand  how  the  peasants  have  arrived 
suddenly,  as  you  state,  at  this  conviction  of 
their  obligations." 

"  Just  so,"  says  Craney.  "  That  comes 
of  having  a  capable  agent.  I  talked  to  them 
and  they  saw  reason.  Fact  is,  though,  the 
idea  seems  to  have  been  growing  on  them 
for  some  years." 

The  keeper  looked  at  me,  and  I  was  study 
ing  different  sides  of  Craney's  scheme.  I 
began :  "  It  might  mean  the  vineyards  of 
Aragon.  All  the  same,  it's  a  queer  busi 
ness." 

He  started  and  muttered,  "  The  vineyards 
of  Aragon !  My  Madrid !  "  and  dropped  his 
head. 

Craney  winked  and  we  went  down. 

I've  heard  it  said  that  Francisco  Pi- 
zarro  was  surprised  when  he  found  he'd 


Torre  Ananias  103 

conquered  Peru  with  only  a  few  objec 
tions. 

Well,  if  we  had  any  trouble  in  this  busi 
ness,  it  was  only  Craney  that  had  it  from 
the  start,  and  he  appeared  to  enjoy  himself. 
He  was  off  most  of  the  time,  pattering 
around  on  his  shaggy  grey  donkey,  and  left 
me  to  take  in  and  stow  away  those  bags  of 
cocoa  beans.  I  used  to  sit  in  front  of  the 
shed,  which  was  close  to  the  shore,  and 
smoke  and  admire  the  world.  Once  a  wreek 
Craney  would  come  down  the  coast  in  a 
clumsy  catboat,  and  we'd  take  a  load  up  to 
the  town,  which  was  called  "  Corazon," — a 
considerable  town  forty  miles  off,  where 
were  French  and  Spanish  agencies  in  the 
cocoa  trade. 

Every  day  a  cautious,  stringy-haired  In 
jun,  with  a  loaded  donkey,  would  come  trot 
ting  out  of  the  woods  to  the  shed,  or  maybe 
several  of  them  at  odd  times.  They  all 
acted  shy,  and  kept  as  far  from  the  Torre 
Ananias  as  the  space  allowed.  Sometimes 


IO4  Torre  Ananias 

they  wouldn't  say  anything,  except  to  state 
that  this  bag  came  from  such  and  such 
plantations,  and  to  hope  Himself  would  take, 
note  of  it.  Then  they'd  look  pleased  and 
peaceful  to  have  it  all  written  down  neatly, 
and  maybe  they'd  want  the  item  read  out, 
and  then  they'd  nod  and  smile  and  trot 
away  contented.  Sometimes  they'd  hope 
Himself  was  feeling  good  on  the  whole.  It 
didn't  seem  to  strike  any  of  them  that  the 
keeper's  position,  as  they  understood  it, 
wasn't  right  and  reasonable. 

I  used  to  sit  in  front  of  the  shed  and 
admire  the  world.  I  thought  about  the 
primitive  mind,  and  how  the  civilised  was 
given  to  playing  it  low  on  the  primitive.  I 
seemed  to  get  around  part  of  their  point  of 
view  after  a  while  and  see  it  was  reason 
able.  For  the  Mituans  had  got  it  fixed  be 
fore  we  came  that  the  keeper  was  somehow 
mixed  up  in  the  earthquakes.  And  when 
they'd  once  taken  that  idea,  it  made  no  dif 
ference  if  they'd  felt  little  motors  every  few 


Torre  Ananias  105 

days  all  their  lives,  and  trembloritos  and 
tremblers  pretty  frequent.  As  a  specimen 
of  authority,  even  a  little  motor  earthquake 
is  too  much.  They  happen  along  in  that 
neighbourhood  every  now  and  then,  maybe 
once  a  month,  and  you  grow  used  to  them, 
but  still,  they're  vivid.  If  you  got  it  once 
in  your  mind  that  Himself  in  the  lighthouse 
was  fingering  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and 
Himself  was  doing  it  when  the  jerks  came 
under  you,  and  your  house  walls  creaked  and 
swayed,  you'd  give  something  to  keep  Him 
self  amiable.  There  was  no  doubt  about 
that. 

But  then,  what  made  it  appear  to  them 
that  the  keeper  was  inside  his  rights  to  be 
bothering  them  that  \vay?  They  seemed  to 
think  no  less  of  him  for  it,  but  rather  more. 
They  thought  he  was  a  fine  thing.  It  puz 
zled  me,  and  I  studied  it.  Then  I  seemed 
to  get  an  understanding  of  the  primitive 
mind  that  was  surprising. 

But  then,  how  did  the  case  stand  with 


io6  Torre  Ananias 

Craney  and  me  ?  As  often  as  that  troubled 
me,  I  had  only  to  go  up  to  the  lantern 
story,  and  hear  the  keeper  talk  about  Madrid 
and  the  vineyards  of  Aragon,  and  about  his 
longing  and  his  pride.  Then  I  felt  better. 
If  the  keeper's  income  kept  up  that  way  it 
was  clear  he  could  go  back  to  Spain  by-and- 
by  with  stateliness  pretty  respectable,  and 
I  says  to  myself : 

"  Why,  the  Injuns  are  happy,  and  the 
keeper's  going  to  be,  and  I'm  a  sinner,  and 
Craney  can  look  after  his  own  conscience. 
Shucks !  He  hasn't  got  any." 

It  made  me  feel  virtuous  to  think  how 
Craney  had  no  conscience.  Maybe  he 
hadn't.  He  was  the  busiest  man  in  South 
America  for  a  while.  I  never  knew  of  an 
other  to  make  a  business  asset  out  of  earth 
quakes  nor  his  equal  for  seeing  an  opening 
for  enterprise.  He  was  a  singular  man, 
Craney,  a  shrewd  one,  and  yet  romantic  and 
given  to  ingenious  visions.  And  yet  again, 
when  he  talked  his  wildest,  you'd  find  he 


Torre  Ananias  107 

had  his  feet  on  some  rocky  facts,  and  his 
one  good  eye  would  be  hard  and  bright  as 
a  new  tack.  We  used  to  sit  in  front  of  the 
shed  sometimes,  looking  down  on  the  sea 
that  was  blue  and  shining  like  rumpled  silk, 
Craney  smoking  cigars  and  I  with  my  pipe. 

"  Tommy,"  he'd  say,  "  the  world  lies  open 
before  us.  Everywhere  is  chances  for  a 
soaring  ambition,  everywhere  is  harvests 
for  the  man  that's  got  talents.  There's  dia 
monds  in  rocks,  and  there's  pearls  in  oysters. 
Richness  grows  out  of  the  ground,  and  glory 
drops  out  of  the  clouds.  Me,  I'm  a 
man  of  ideals.  Give  me  room  to  spread. 
Let  me  strike  my  gait  and  I'll  make  the  con 
tinents  sizzle,  and  governments  have  fits. 
Expand,  Tommy!  Expand  your  mind! 
Small  men  has  small  ambitions.  Large  men 
has  wings.  That's  me." 

There  were  a  number  of  heavy  shocks, 
about  the  time  when  the  eastern  Mituas  dis 
tricts  were  picking  the  trees,  and  some  of  the 
Mituans  were  mad  about  it,  but  they  had  a 


io8  Torre  Ananias 


big  harvest.  They  brought  cocoa-beans  in 
caravans  and  boatloads  for  a  while,  and 
they  said  it  was  many  years  since  they'd  had 
such  a  harvest,  or  such  a  trembler,  and  Him 
self  was  a  great  magician. 

The  time  went  by.  I  heard  in  Corazon 
one  day  that  Captain  Rickhart  had  put  into 
port  there  on  his  back  voyage,  and  inquired 
some  for  us,  but  that  was  a  month  before. 
Later  Craney  had  a  contract  offered  by  the 
French  agencies,  and  had  to  buy  up  most  of 
the  North  Mituas  cocoa  crop  to  fill  it. 

One  day  we  sat  together  in  front  of  the 
shed.  He  was  laying  out  different  schemes. 
He  said  this  tribute  business  was  too  small, 
and  there  wasn't  much  enterprise  in  it.  The 
Injuns  were  terrible  set  in  their  ideas.  He 
had  a  number  of  schemes.  One  of  them 
for  putting  up  a  supply  store  in  Corazon, 
running  accounts  there  on  the  crops,  but  I 
didn't  take  to  it;  I  was  no  storekeeper,  but 
a  sailor,  and  getting  nervous  to  go  to 
Panama. 


Torre  Ananias  109 

It  was  hot  by  the  shed,  and  we  were  go 
ing  up  by  the  banana  tree,  when  we  saw  a 
large  catboat  coasting  down  to  the  point,  and 
by  the  hang  of  her  sail  it  was  Padre  Fi- 
lippo's. 

The  Padre  was  aboard,  and  the  two  Mit- 
uans  that  sailed  for  him,  and  two  men  be 
sides,  one  in  a  cocked  hat  and  uniform.  So 
they  came  ashore.  Padre  Filippo  chuckled, 
and  shook  his  fat  ringer  at  Craney. 

"  Ah,  senorito,  little  rogue !  "  he  says. 
"  Alas !  what  behaviour !  "  and  he  chuckled 
and  patted  Craney  on  the  arm. 

The  official  was  sociable  too.  He  took 
out  a  cigarette,  and  explained  there  had  been 
a  complaint  lodged  with  the  authorities 
against  the  keeper,  that  he'd  been  drawing 
illicit  gains  from  the  peasantry.  In  fact, 
Padre  Filippo  had  complained.  The  Padre 
laughed  again. 

"  Why,"  says  Craney,  "  I  know  something 
about  that." 

"  Truly,  I  think  so!  "  chuckles  the  Padre. 


no  Torre  Ananias 

"  And  if  they've  a  mind  to  present  him 
with  a  bag  of  beans  now  and  then,  whose 
business  is  it  ?  "  says  Craney. 

"  The  alcalde's,"  says  the  official,  very 
calm.  "It's  not  mine.  I  have  but  to  take 
him  before  the  alcalde,  and  here  is  the 
keeper  of  the  lighthouse  who  takes  his  place. 
In  candour  I  think  Seiior  de  Avila  does  not 
return.  It  is  no  affair  of  mine." 

"  Why,"  I  says,  "  he'll  never  condescend 
to  go  before  your  alcalde!  Why,  an  al 
calde's  too  small  for  him  to  see." 

"Chut!"  says  the  Padre.  "Speak  in 
reverence  of  authorities,  my  son.  You  are 
both  little  rogues." 

"He'll  resign!" 

"  It  is  possible,"  says  the  official. 

Craney  lay  on  his  back  and  thought  a 
bit.  Then  he  says  to  the  official,  "  I'm  think 
ing  the  keeper  wouldn't  mind  resigning, 
supposing  my  friend  Buckingham  here  went 
up  and  talked  him  over.  He  might  go  back 
to  Spain,  maybe.  Maybe  you  don't  know 


Torre  Ananias  1 1 1 

his  popularity  in  this  section,  but  I  tell  you 
this,  he  could  make  you  plenty  of  trouble. 
You've  got  an  idea  he's  going  to  be  arrested 
and  jailed  and  blackguarded  by  an  alcalde. 
Well,  he  isn't,  or  these  Mituas  people  of  his 
will  know  why.  Padre  Filippo  here,  he'd  al 
ways  rather  things  were  done  peacefully." 

"  Surely,"  says  the  Padre,  "  surely." 

"  You'd  better  let  us  arrange  it.  Besides, 
in  that  case  it  might  interest  you — say,  ten 
dollars'  worth  of  interest." 

"  Fifteen,"  says  the  other,  very  calm.  "  It 
is  no  affair  of  mine." 

Then  I  went  up  to  the  Torre  Ananias,  up 
to  the  lantern  story  where  the  keeper  was 
looking  over  the  sea  and  brooding. 

"  Seiior,"  I  says,  "  why  don't  you  go  to 
Aragon  and  buy  vineyards?  " 

"  True,"  he  said  quietly,  "  why  not?  But 
you  have  some  reason  for  speaking,  for  sug 
gesting." 

"Why— yes.  It's  not  the  fault  of  the 
people  on  the  estate,  but  there's  a  govern- 


U2  Torre  Ananias 

ment  somewhere  around  here,  and  they're 
getting  offish,  and  it  can't  be  helped.  You 
don't  want  to  squabble  over  the  lighthouse. 
Why  not  buy  some  vineyards  in  Aragon? 
You  can  afford  it  now.  The  officials  want 
to  interfere  with  you.  Why  not  get  up  and 
walk  away?  " 

He  stood  up  and  wrapped  his  coat  around 
him,  and  said,  "  I  will  go,"  and  started 
downstairs  for  Spain. 

We  sailed  for  Corazon  in  the  Padre's  cat- 
boat  and  left  the  new  keeper  in  the  tower, 
and  I  never  but  once  again  have  landed  on 
the  point.  That  was  when  I  came  some 
days  after  to  gather  a  few  things  left  be 
hind. 

It  was  in  the  evening,  and  there  were 
great  bonfires  burning  in  the  open  space  by 
the  banana  tree,  and  a  crowd  of  figures 
around  it,  but  all  that  was  hidden  when  the 
sailboat  drew  under  the  bluffs.  I  stepped 
ashore  and  went  into  the  shed,  and  some 
one  rose  in  the  dark  and  grabbed  me,  and 


Torre  Ananias  113 

I  dragged  him  out  into  the  starlight.  It 
was  the  new  keeper. 

"  Senor/'  he  gasped.  "  Do  not  go  up ! 
They  drove  me  with  sticks  and  stones  that 
I  fled  to  the  water.  They  are  mad !  Hear 
them!  They  mourn  for  Senor  de  Avila. 
They  build  a  great  fire  and  they  sing  thus 
in  no  Christian  language.  Come  away  in 
your  boat.  They  are  mad." 

It  seemed  to  me  too  they'd  better  be  left 
to  themselves.  We  drew  out  again  from 
under  the  bluffs,  and  caught  the  breeze,  and 
stood  away.  The  shouting  and  the  chant 
kept  on,  and  the  fire  shone  after  us  like  a 
red  path  on  the  water. 

I  don't  know  any  more  about  the  Tower 
of  Ananias.  But  I  know  the  Mituas  people 
were  sore  about  losing  the  keeper,  who  went 
to  Lima,  meaning  to  go  to  Spain,  and  never 
knew  he'd  been  supernatural.  Craney  told 
me  afterwards  he'd  heard  the  keeper  died 
on  the  voyage  and  was  dropped  overboard 
to  punctuate  the  end  of  his  story, — only,  no 


114  Torre  Ananias 

name  was  given,  and  maybe  it  wasn't  him 
but  some  other  aristocracy. 

Craney  himself  stayed  on  at  Corazon  in 
the  cocoa  trade,  meaning  to  take  up  con 
tracts  with  the  French  and  English  agencies. 
He  asked  me  to  stay  with  him,  and  when  I 
wouldn't,  he  asked  for  reasons,  and  I  gave 
him  a  reason.  Not  that  I  mentioned  the 
hundred  and  forty  lost  at  Colon.  For  if  he 
took  it  (and  I  guessed  pretty  near  he  did) 
he'd  paid  it  back  with  a  long  leeway  by 
sharing  the  Mituas  business  with  me,  when 
the  whole  thing  was  his.  I  thought  the  less 
said  the  better.  If  he  was  nervous  to  know 
what  was  my  mind  about  that  point,  why,  I 
thought  it  was  good  for  him  to  be  nervous. 
I  gave  for  a  reason  that  I  was  thinking  to 
go  back  to  Greenough  on  Long  Island 
Sound. 

"  Greenough !  "  he  says.  "  It's  next  to 
where  Abe  Dalrimple  lives?  Adrian's  the 
name  of  his  town." 

I  says: 


Torre  Ananias  1 1 5 

"  What  do  you  know  of  it,  Craney?  " 

"  I  went  there  with  Abe  Dalrimple,"  he 
says,  "  and  left  him  there  planting  lobster 
pots.  That  wouldn't  do  for  me.  None  of 
it  in  mine.  Abe's  got  no  more  ambition 
than  to  dodge  the  next  kettle  Mrs.  Dal 
rimple  throws  at  him,  but  me,  I'm  ambitious. 
I  got  to  spread  out.  I'm  a  romantic  man, 
Tommy.  That's  my  secret.  That's  the 
key  of  me.  Give  me  largeness.  Give  me 
space  for  my  talents.  What  do  you  want 
with  Greenough?  You  stay  with  me  and 
I'll  show  you  who's  the  natural  lord  of  all 
lands  that's  fertile  and  foolish.  Ain't  I 
showed  you  what  I  could  do  in  a  small  way  ? 
Why,  I  only  just  began.  That's  nothing, 
I'm  a  soarer,  Tommy,  I've  got  visions." 

I  took  a  look  at  his  one  hard  bright  eye, 
and  thought  him  over,  and  I  thought: 

"  You've  got  'em  all  right,  but  they're  slip 
pery,"  and  I  says: 

"  Did  you  hear  news  of  any  one  in  Green 
ough?" 


1 1 6  Torre  Ananias 

"  Give  'em  a  name." 

"  Happen  it  might  be  the  name  of  Pem 
berton,"  I  says.  "  Madge  Pemberton." 

"  There  was  a  man  in  Adrian  named  An 
drew  McCulloch,"  he  says,  "  that  married  a 
girl  named  Pemberton  from  Greenough. 
Aye,  I  recollect,  Pemberton's  was  a  hotel." 

"Madge  Pemberton?" 

"  It  was  that  name." 

I  recollect  it  was  a  little  cafe  in  Cora- 
zon,  where  Craney  and  I  sat  that  evening. 
It  was  thick  with  smoke  and  crowded  with 
round  tables,  at  which  mixed  breeds  of  peo 
ple,  mostly  square-shouldered  little  men, 
were  discussing  the  time  of  day  and  the 
merits  of  wine — which  hadn't  any — in  a 
way  of  excitement  that  you'd  think  they 
were  crying  out  against  oppression.  Each 
table  had  a  tallow  candle  on  it,  burning  dim 
in  the  smoke. 

I  says,  "Oh!" 

Then  Craney  went  on  talking,  but  I  don't 
know  what  it  was  about. 


Torre  Ananias  117 

Then  I  says,  "  It  don't  suit  me  in  Cor 
azon,"  and  I  got  up.  I  went  out  in  the  steep 
cobbled  street  that  runs  down  to  the  shore  of 
Corazon  Bay. 

I  lay  all  night  on  the  shore  and  watched 
the  waves  come  up  and  crumble  on  the 
shingle.  I  remembered  the  verse  Sadler 
used  to  chant  to  me  in  the  Hebe  Maitland 
days,  when  I  was  acting  more  gay  than  he 
thought  becoming  to  the  uselessness  of  me. 
"  Oh,  sailor  boy/4  he  says. 

"  Oh,  sailor,  my  sailor  boy,  bonny  and  blue, 
You're  rompin',  you're  roamin', 
The  long  slantin'  sorrows  are  waiting  for  you 
In  the  gloamin',  the  gloamin'." 

I  remember,  when  it  came  morning,  on 
the  beach  at  Corazon,  I  got  up,  and  I  says : 

"  Clyde's  mucky  old  bags  can  stay  there 
till  I'm  ready,"  I  says.  "  What's  the  use!  " 

I  took  a  dislike  to  Clyde's  money.  I 
bought  a  passage  to  San  Francisco,  and 
came  there  in  the  year  '75. 

There  I  put  the  profits  of  six  years  on 


1 1 8  Torre  Ananias 

the  West  Coast  into  shares  in  a  ship  called 
the  Anaconda,  and  shipped  on  her  myself 
as  second  mate. 

I  found  Stevey  Todd  cooking  in  a  res 
taurant  in  San  Francisco.  He'd  gone 
into  gold  mines,  after  getting  loose  from 
the  Jane  Allen.  He'd  left  his  profits  from 
the  Hotel  Helen  Mar  in  the  gold  mines. 
Every  mine  he'd  invested  in  got  discour 
aged,  so  he  said,  but  I  judge  the  truth  was 
more  likely  Stevey  Todd  was  taken  in  by 
mining  sharks.  He'd  made  up  his  mind 
property  wasn't  his  stronghold  and  gone 
back  to  cooking,  and  never  took  any  more 
interest  in  property  after  that,  nor  had  any 
to  take  interest  in.  But  he  told  me  Sadler 
was  in  business  and  getting  rich,  and  in 
partnership  with  a  Chinaman,  and  living  in 
a  town  called  "  Saleratus,"  sixty  miles  down 
the  coast,  which  none  of  these  statements 
seemed  likely  at  the  time.  Stevey  Todd 
didn't  know  why  the  town  was  named 
Saleratus.  He  thought  maybe  Sadler  had 


Torre  Ananias  119 

named  it,  or  maybe  gone  there  on  account 
of  the  name,  foreseeing  interesting  rhymes 
with  "potatoes"  and  "tomatoes."  But  I 
didn't  look  Sadler  up  at  that  time. 

The  Captain  turned  to  Uncle  Abimelech, 
and  said : 

"  Happen  you  might  remember  Sadler's 
tune  to  that  verse,  '  Sailor,  my  sailor  boy, 
bonny  and  blue'  ?  " 

"  He  never  said  no  such  impudent  thing 
to  me,"  said  Uncle  Abimelech  wrathfully. 
"  I'd  'a'  whaled  him  good." 

"Why,  that's  true,  Abe,"  said  Captain 
Buckingham.  "  You  wasn't  much  on 
looks." 

Stevey  Todd  said: 

"  They  changed  that  name,   Saleratus." 

"That's  true  too,"  said  Captain  Buck 
ingham.  "  An  outlandish  name  is  bad  for 
a  town,  or  a  ship,  or  a  man;  same  as  the 
Anaconda,  for  the  Anaconda  had  bad  luck, 
same  as  Abimelech  Dalrimple.  He'd  never 


I2O  Torre  Ananias 

Ve  got  his  brains  frazzled  if  he'd  been  named 
Bill." 

He  paused  several  minutes  before  going 
on,  to  think  over  this  theory  of  names. 


CHAPTER  VII 

•iLiebcben.  Ube  Bwfaweibltcbe.  tTbc  Narrative 
1Re0ume&,  witb  tbe  Xoss  of  tbc  "  SnaconDa  " 

I  INVESTED  the  profits  of  the  Hotel 
Helen  Mar  and  the  Ananias  planta 
tion  in  shares  in  the  Anaconda,  and  shipped 
myself  as  second  mate.  She  was  carrying  a 
cargo  of  steel  rails  for  a  railroad  in  Japan. 

There  was  a  man  named  Kreps  who 
came  aboard  at  Honolulu.  He  was  a  round- 
faced,  chubby  man,  with  spectacles  and  a 
trunk  full  of  preserved  specimens,  and  out 
of  breath  with  his  enthusiasm;  and  he  was 
a  German,  too,  and  a  Professor  of  Aller- 
leiwissenschaft,  which  I  take  to  mean  Things 
in  General.  He  was  around  gathering  in 
culture  and  twelve-sided  fish  in  the  Pacific, 
and  had  a  pailful  of  island  dialects  and 
sentiments  that  were  milky  and  innocent. 
But  I  liked  him. 

I  had  no  objection  to  the  Anaconda  either, 

121 


122  Liebchen 


except  that  she  went  to  the  bottom  of  the 
Pacific  without  any  argument  about  that, 
and  left  me  stranded  on  a  little  island  there 
along  with  Kreps,  and  a  hen  named  Veron 
ica,  and  a  Kanaka  named  Kamelillo.  There 
was  a  fourth  that  got  stranded  there 
too.  We  called  her  "  Liebchen,"  and  she 
surely  acted  singular,  did  Liebchen,  but  I 
liked  her  too.  Kreps  said  she  was  "  sym 
bol,"  but  his  ideas  and  mine  didn't  agree. 
He  said  she  was  a  type  of  the  "  Ewigweib- 
liche,"  which  is  another  good  word  though 
a  Dutch  one.  Maybe  she  was.  Maybe  Ve 
ronica  was  another  type.  I  guess  it's  a  word 
that's  got  some  varieties  to  it. 

Veronica  belonged  to  the  ship,  but  had 
never  been  cooked,  being  thin  and  stringy; 
and  Kamelillo  was  a  silent,  sulky  Kanaka 
that  had  lived  up  and  down  the  Pacific,  and 
harpooned  whales,  and  been  shipwrecked 
now  and  then,  and  was  sometimes  drunk 
and  sometimes  starved,  and  had  no  opinion 
on  these  things,  except  that  he'd  rather  be 


Liebchen  123 


drunk  than  starved.  I  never  knew  one  that 
took  less  interest  in  life,  provided  he  was  let 
alone.  I  liked  them  all  well  enough,  too.  I 
took  things  as  they  came  in  those  days. 
I'd  as  soon  have  bunked  in  with  an  alli 
gator  as  a  Patagonian. 

It  was  south  of  Midway  Island  that  we 
ran  into  the  typhoon  come  over  from  Asia. 
A  typhoon  is  to  an  ordinary  storm  what  a 
surf  is  to  a  deep-sea  wave,  for  it's  short  but 
ugly.  When  it  was  done  with  us  the  Ana 
conda  began  to  leak  fearful  in  the  waist, 
and  I  dare  say  the  typhoon  was  excuse 
enough  if  she'd  broken  in  two.  She  went 
down  easy  and  slow,  with  all  I  had  and 
owned  sticking  in  her.  It's  bad  luck  to  give 
a  ship  an  outlandish  name. 

There  were  two  large  boats  and  a  small 
one,  and  trouble  came  from  Kreps'  tin  cans 
of  specimens,  for  the  captain  wouldn't  take 
them  in  his  boat,  nor  the  first  mate  in  his,  so 
Kreps  wanted  to  put  them  in  the  small  boat. 
He  shed  tears  and  got  low  in  his  mind. 


1 24  Liebchen 


"  Dey  are  von  der  sciences  ignorant,  ob 
tuse,"  he  says. 

I  says,  "  So's  the  Pacific  Ocean." 

"  But  you,  so  young,  so  intelligent !  Not 
as  de  Pacific  Ocean,  hein  ?  " 

I  allowed  there  was  difference  between 
me  and  the  Pacific.  Kreps  got  his  tin  cans 
in,  and  I  put  the  boat  off.  Kamelillo  was 
spreading  the  cat-sail  and  had  no  opinion. 
Veronica  came  flapping  over  the  rail  with 
a  squawk,  and  lit  on  Kamelillo,  and  fell  into 
the  bottom  of  the  boat.  We  got  away  after 
the  other  boats,  the  night  coming  on  clear, 
and  Kamelillo  talked  island  dialects  at 
Veronica  for  scratching  him  when  he  wanted 
to  be  let  alone.  Kreps  sat  over  his  speci 
mens,  innocent  and  happy  and  singing  Ger 
man  lullabies. 

The  next  morning  the  other  boats  were 
not  in  sight.  We  steered  north,  for  there 
were  odd  islands  in  that  direction  by  the 
chart,  without  names  enough  to  go  around 
them;  and  on  the  second  morning  we  saw 


Liebchen  125 


a  high  shore  to  port,  with  surf  like  a  white 
rag  sewed  along  the  bottom,  and  rags  of 
mist  sticking  to  the  black  bluffs. 

"  Ach,"  says  Kreps,  and  the  tears  trickled 
down  under  his  spectacles.  "  Gott  sei  dank ! 
I  am  miide  of  the  sea.  It  iss  too  large." 

"  How  she  get  up  them  high  ?  "  Kamel- 
illo  says.  "  No !  Maybe  dam  hen  fly  up. 
Not  me.  No!" 

We  coasted  by  the  east  side  a  little  way 
and  came  to  a  place  where  the  water  was 
quiet  and  black  in  a  slip  of  maybe  a  hundred 
feet  in  width,  where  the  bluff  had  broken  in 
two.  The  channel  appeared  to  curve,  so  that 
you  could  only  see  a  little  way  up.  We 
dropped  sail  and  pulled  through.  It  might 
have  been  twenty  feet  deep  in  the  channel, 
being  high  tide,  and  running  in  slow.  Wine- 
palms  and  cocoanut  trees  grew  on  the  bluffs 
on  each  side.  Some  leaned  over,  with  roots 
out  where  the  earth  had  caved  away.  We 
came  about  the  curve  and  sawr  a  closed  bay, 
shut  in  by  the  bluffs  from  the  outer  sea  and 


1 26  Liebchen 


even  the  winds.  It  was  wooded  on  the 
north  and  very  rocky  on  the  south,  and 
might  have  been  a  quarter  of  a  mile  across. 
We  landed  on  the  north  side  and  camped, 
and  set  a  signal  on  the  bluffs,  and  then  we 
laid  off  to  wait  for  accidents.  I  knew  there 
were  whalers  cruising  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  thought  likely  it  would  be  seen. 

Now  Liebchen  came  in  one  day  at  high 
tide,  chasing  those  little  goggle-eyed  squids 
that  lived  so  many  in  the  harbour.  The 
first  we  saw  was  tons  of  her  gambolling 
around  in  the  water.  She  was  a  medium- 
sized  whale,  and  might  have  been  forty  feet 
in  length,  but  I  never  was  in  the  whaling 
business,  and  Liebchen  was  the  only  one  I 
ever  got  real  acquainted  with.  I've  heard 
it's  common  for  them  to  be  stranded  on 
shallow  shores,  and  get  off  again  if  let  alone. 
The  harbour  may  have  been  Liebchen's 
boudoir  for  aught  I  know.  Maybe  she'd 
come  there  before.  She  surely  knew  how  to 
get  out  if  let  alone.  After  an  hour  or  so 


Liebchen  127 


she  was  over  by  the  entrance  trying  to  leave. 
She  seemed  to  be  in  trouble,  and  then  we 
saw  the  tide  had  gone  out,  and  left  the  chan 
nel  too  shallow  to  heave  over. 

When  Kreps  understood  that  she  was 
penned  in,  he  acted  outrageous,  and  pranced 
like  a  red  rubber  balloon. 

"  Gieb  mir  das  axe !  Ich  will  de  habits 
of  de  cetacean  studieren !  "  he  says. 

He  ran  away  through  the  \voods  around 
the  north  shore,  and  I  ran  after,  to  see  him 
study  the  habits  of  the  cetacean.  Liebchen 
had  sidled  off  and  was  rolling  about  in  the 
middle  of  the  harbour  when  we  came  to  the 
bluffs,  where  the  wine-palms  and  cocoanut 
trees  leaned  over  and  the  channel  was  nar 
row.  Kreps  fell  to  chopping  the  landward 
roots,  and  I  saw  he  wanted  to  block  the 
channel. 

We  slid  a  tree  down  under  the  water, 
and  then  another,  and  so  on,  till  it  was  a 
messy-looking  channel,  a  sort  of  log  jam, 
with  roots  and  palm-tree  tops  mixed  in, 


128  Liebchen 


which  I  thought  the  tide  would  float  out,  and 
it  did  afterward,  some  of  it. 

Then  we  went  back  to  where  Kamelillo 
was  cooking,  squatted  on  the  shore  with  his 
bare  back  turned  to  the  water.  He  took  no 
interest  in  Liebchen.  He  was  making  a 
kind  of  paste  of  ground  roots,  called  "  poi," 
which  wasn't  bad,  if  you  rolled  a  fish  in  it, 
and  baked  it  on  the  coals,  and  thought  about 
something  else.  But  at  that  time  Liebchen 
came  round  the  north  shore  in  a  roar  of 
foam,  bringing  her  flukes  down  now  and 
then  with  a  slap  to  make  the  harbour  ache, 
and  she  slapped  near  a  barrel  of  water  over 
Kamelillo  and  his  fire  and  his  poi.  Ka 
melillo  says : 

"Why  for?  She  not  my  whale.  You 
keep  her  out  a  my  suppa.  Why  for  ?  " 

Kreps  was  disgusted  because  Kamelillo 
didn't  like  Liebchen.  He  went  and  stood 
on  the  bank,  in  the  interest  of  science, 
and  studied  the  habits  of  the  cetacean,  but 
he  got  no  results.  She  had  no  habits,  to 


Liebchen  129 


speak  uprightly,  only  notions.  They 
weren't  any  use  to  science.  Sometimes 
she'd  flutter  with  her  fins,  and  twitter  her 
flukes,  and  sidle  off"  like  she  was  bashful, 
and  then  she'd  come  swooping  around 
enough  to  make  the  harbour  sizzle,  and 
stick  her  nose  in  the  bottom  and  her  tail  in 
the  air,  trembling  with  her  emotions,  and 
then  she'd  come  up  and  smile  at  you  a  rod 
each  way.  I  judged  she  meant  all  right, 
but  she  didn't  understand  her  limitations. 
Her  strong  hold  was  the  majestic.  She 
appeared  to  have  it  fixed  she  wanted  to 
be  kittenish.  That  was  the  way  it  seemed  to 
me.  But  Kreps  studied  her  mornings  and 
afternoons  and  into  the  night,  and  day  after 
day  it  went  on,  and  she  bothered  him. 
Then  he  saw  he  was  on  the  wrong  tack, 
and  put  his  helm  about,  and  he  says : 

"  She  is  de  Ewigweibliche.  She  is  not 
science.  She  is  boetry.  She  is  de  sharm 
of  everlasting  feminine,"  and  he  heaved  a 
sigh.  I  says: 


130  Liebchen 


"  Ewigweibliche !  "  I  says.  "  Everlasting 
feminine!  What's  the  use  of  that?  " 

I  took  to  studying  Liebchen  too,  and  it 
appeared  to  me  Kreps'  idea  wasn't  useful. 
He  was  a  man  to  have  sentiments  naturally. 
He'd  sit  out  on  the  end  of  a  log  moonlight 
nights,  with  his  fat  face  and  spectacles 
shining,  and  Liebchen  would  muzzle  around 
with  a  ten-foot  snout  like  an  engine  boiler, 
and  a  piggy  eye;  and  he'd  sing  German 
lullabies;  "  Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume."  I 
didn't  think  she  was  like  a  flower.  She  was 
more  like  an  oil  tank. 

So  Kreps  would  sing  to  her  in  the  moon 
light,  but  Kamelillo  didn't  like  her.  Veron 
ica  didn't  like  her  either,  and  would  stand  off 
and  cackle  at  her  pointedly.  She  seemed  to 
think  Liebchen  carried  on  improper  and  had 
no  refinement.  Why,  I  guess  from  her 
point  of  view  sea  bathing  wasn't  becoming, 
and  when  Liebchen  stood  on  her  head  in  the 
water,  Veronica  used  to  take  to  the  woods 
with  her  feelings  pretty  rumpled.  Kam- 


Liebchen  131 


elillo  disliked  Veronica  on  account  of  her 
fussiness,  and  because  she  had  lit  on  him  and 
scratched  him  when  he  wanted  to  be  let 
alone.  He  wanted  to  make  Veronica  into 
poi,  but  I  didn't  think  there  was  any  real 
nourishment  in  her ;  and  he  wanted  to  break 
the  log  jam  and  let  the  whale  out,  but  I  told 
him  it  was  Kreps'  jam. 

"  Ain'  harbour  belong  him,"  said  Kam- 
elillo.  "  Ain'  him  slap  harbour  on  me.  Thas 
whale  bad  un.  I  show  him."  He  went  to 
Kreps.  "  I  tell  you,  dam  Dutchman,"  he 
says,  meaning  to  be  soothing  and  persuasive. 
"  I  tell  you,  we  cutta  bamboo,  harpoon 
whale.  Donnerblissen !  Easy !  " 

"  Du  animal !  "  says  Kreps.  "  Mitout  per 
ception,  mitout  soul,  mitout  delicate !  " 

"  Oh !  "  says  Kamelillo ;  "  girl  whale.  All 
right,  dam  Dutchman,  me  fren.  You  break 
jam.  Letta  go." 

"  It  iss  not  of  use,"  said  Kreps,  and  he 
sighed.  "  You  understand  not  de  yearning, 
de  ideal.  Listen !  Liebchen,  she  iss  de  ab- 


132  Liebchen 


straction,  de  principle.  Aber  no.  You  can 
not.  De  soul  iss  alone,  iss  not  compre 
hend." 

"  All  right,"  says  Kamelillo.  "  You  look 
here.  Go  see  thas  girl  whale  on  a  bamboo 
raft.  No  good  sit  on  log  all  night,  sing 
hoohoo  song." 

Kreps  was  taken  with  that  notion.  "  So, 
my  friend  ?  "  he  says. 

"  You  teach  her  like  missionary  teach 
Kanaka  girl,"  says  Kamelillo,  getting  inter 
ested.  "  You  teach  her  to  she  wear  petti 
coat,  no  stan'  on  her  head.  You  teach  her 
go  Sunday  school." 

I  says,  "  Look  out,  Kreps.  That  whale 
'11  drown  you.  She's  got  no  culture." 

But  Kreps  was  calm.  "  I  vill  approach 
Liebchen  more  near,"  he  says.  "  It  iss  time 
to  advance.  I  vill  go  mit  Kamelillo,  my 
friend." 

Kamelillo  spent  the  morning  making  a 
bamboo  raft,  and  in  the  afternoon  they  put 
out.  Liebchen  was  over  by  the  harbour  en- 


Liebchen  133 


trance,  lying  low  in  the  water  and  maybe 
asleep.  Kamelillo  had  a  bamboo  pole  in  his 
hand  to  pole  the  raft  with,  but  he  had  shod 
it  with  his  harpoon  head.  They  drew 
alongside,  and  Kreps  was  facing  front,  with 
his  back  to  Kamelillo.  He  lifted  his  oar  to 
slap  the  water,  and  Kamelillo  drew  off,  and 
cast  the  harpoon.  Liebchen,  she  came  out 
of  her  maiden  fancies.  She  acted  plain 
whale.  That's  a  way  of  acting  which  calls 
for  respect,  but  it's  not  romantic.  She 
slapped  the  bamboo  raft,  and  there  was  no 
such  thing.  She  swallowed  the  harbour 
and  spit  it  out.  She  whooped  and  danced 
and  teetered.  She  let  out  all  her  primeval 
feelings.  She  put  on  no  airs,  and  she  made 
no  pretences.  She  turned  everything  she 
could  find  into  scrambled  eggs,  and  played 
the  "  Marseillaise  "  on  her  blow-hole.  She 
did  herself  up  into  knots  to  break  whalebone, 
and  untied  them  like  a  pop  of  a  cork.  She 
was  no  more  female  than  she  was  science. 
She  was  wrath  and  earthquakes  and  the  day 


Liebchen 


of  judgment.  She  scooped  out  the  bottom 
of  the  harbour  and  laid  it  on  top,  and 
turned  somersets  through  the  middle  of 
chaos.  Veronica  took  to  the  woods.  I  ran 
along  the  north  shore,  thinking  they  were 
both  scrambled,  but  I  found  Kamelillo  pull 
ing  Kreps  through  the  shallows  by  his  col 
lar,  and  shaking  the  water  out  of  his  eyes, 
and  not  seeming  to  be  disturbed.  But 
Kreps  took  off  his  spectacles  and  wiped 
them,  and  he  says: 

"  Ach,  Liebchen !  "  he  says.  "  She  iss  too 
much." 

"  Thas  whale!  "  says  Kamelillo.  "  Thas 
all  right!" 

"  Liebchen  iss  too  much  of  her,"  says 
Kreps  very  dignified,  and  stalked  to  the 
camp. 

"  Thas  whale !  "  says  Kamelillo.  "  Thas 
all  right!" 

He  chopped  the  jam  that  afternoon,  and 
it  floated  out  in  the  night  or  early  morn 
ing  with  the  ebb.  We  went  to  the  bank 


Liebchen  135 


when  the  tide  was  in  again  to  watch  Lieb 
chen  go  out.  Kreps  was  pretty  tearful. 

"  Aber,"  he  says,  "  she  iss  too  much  of 
her." 

She  came  feeling  her  way  through  the 
channel  with  her  snout  under  water.  Kam- 
elillo's  bamboo  stuck  out  of  her  fat  side  six 
feet  or  more.  Veronica  cackled  at  her,  and 
her  feathers  stood  up,  so  that  you  could  see 
she  thought  Liebchen  was  no  lady.  Lieb 
chen  passed  close  beneath  us.  Seemed  like 
she  felt  mortified.  Kreps  broke  down,  but 
Kamelillo  was  gay. 

"Dam  hen!"  he  says,  and  grabbed  Ve 
ronica  with  both  hands.  "  Go  too!  "  and  he 
flung  her  at  Liebchen,  and  she  went  through 
the  air  squawking  and  fluttering.  She  lit 
on  Liebchen's  slippery  back,  and  she  slid  till 
she  struck  the  bamboo,  and  roosted.  If  she 
had  had  time  to  think  she  might  have  flopped 
ashore,  but  she  was  flustered,  and  Liebchen 
got  out  of  the  channel  and  steered  into  the 
Pacific.  Veronica  squawked  a  few  times, 


136  Liebchen 


and  no  more.  The  sea  was  quiet.  The  two 
moved  off,  going  eastward  very  slow. 
Kamelillo  went  back  to  his  camp  fire  and 
made  poi,  but  Kreps  and  I  watched,  expect 
ing  that  Liebchen  would  go  under  and 
Veronica  be  lost.  But  they  kept  on  till 
there  was  only  a  black  spot  near  the  edge  of 
the  sky. 

It  came  on  afternoon.  The  tide  was  out, 
and  we  lay  about.  There  was  not  enough 
wind  to  flutter  the  signal  on  the  bluffs,  which 
was  Kreps'  red  shirt,  and  hung  there  to 
entertain  any  one  that  might  come  by. 
Kamelillo  suddenly  sat  up.  "Hear  im?" 
he  says. 

There  was  a  great  noise  over  in  the 
channel  out  of  sight,  a  kind  of  splashing, 
thumping,  and  blowing,  and  the  waves 
rolled  into  the  harbour.  We  ran  along  the 
shore  and  came  to  the  bluffs.  There  was 
Liebchen !  She  appeared  to  have  grounded 
in  the  channel,  trying  to  get  in  quick  at  low 
tide.  But  there  were  two  harpoons,  more 


Liebchen  137 


than  the  bamboo,  sticking  in  her  very  deep, 
and  the  lines  were  hitched  to  a  longboat, 
the  longboat  coming  inshore  now  full  of 
men,  Veronica  squatting  on  the  thwart  of 
the  same,  comfortable  and  dignified. 

Kamelillo  says,  "  Whale  ain't  got  sense, 
thas  whale !  "  And  Kreps  says,  "  Ach,  Lieb 
chen!" 

She  struck  her  last  flurry,  and  filled  the 
air  with  spray.  The  longboat  held  off,  see 
ing  she  was  likely  to  stay  there  and  needed 
all  the  room.  After  a  while  she  grew  quiet. 
A  few  motions  of  her  flukes,  and  that  was 
all.  The  longboat  came  in,  and  we  slid 
down  the  bluffs.  The  man  in  the  stern  says, 
"  That  your  hen?" 

I  said  I  was  acquainted  with  her. 

"  Oh !    Maybe  that's  your  whale  ?  " 

"  Ach,  Liebchen !  "  says  Kreps. 

Kamelillo  waded  in,  and  looked  at  the  har 
poons,  and  shook  his  head,  for  he  knew  the 
laws  and  rights  of  the  trade. 

"  No/'  he  says.    "  Thas  your  whale." 


138  Liebchen 


"  Been  cast  up,  have  ye?  "  says  the  steers 
man,  looking  around.  "  We  struck  that 
whale  ten  miles  out.  We  comes  up  quiet, 
and  I  see  that  bamboo  sticking  in  her,  with 
that  hen  squatting  on  it.  '  Queer ! '  says 
I.  And  just  as  Billy  here  was  letting  her 
have  it,  the  hen  gives  a  squawk  and  comes 
flopping  aboard;  and  Billy  lets  her  have  it, 
and  Dick  here  lets  her  have  it,  and  she  goes 
plumb  down  sudden.  Then  up  she  comes 
and  starts,  like  she  was  going  to  see  her 
Ma  and  knew  her  own  mind,  and  up  this 
channel  she  comes,  and  runs  aground  fool 
ish.  I  never  see  a  whale  act  so  foolish. 
Thought  she  might  be  a  friend  of  yours," 
says  he,  "  meaning  no  reflections." 

I  said  I  was  acquainted  with  her,  and 
Kreps  took  off  his  glasses  and  wiped  his 
eyes. 

"  She  vass  of  de  tenderness,  das  Zart- 
lichkeit."  It  made  him  sad  to  see  Liebchen 
dead,  that  was  full  of  sensibility,  and 
Veronica  come  back  with  dignity,  she  being 


Liebchen  139 


a  conventional  hen  and  scornful  and  cold  by 
nature. 

"  Ach,  Liebchen !  "  he  says ;  and  we  went 
back  to  gather  up  his  tin  cans ;  and  I  says : 

"  Ewigweibliche's  a  good  word,  though 
a  Dutch  one ; "  then  we  came  away  on  the 
whaler. 

But  all  I  owned  went  down  on  the  Ana 
conda.  I  got  back  to  San  Francisco  in  course 
of  time,  but  no  richer  than  when  I  left  Green- 
ough,  and  ten  years  or  more  older. 

Kreps  was  a  man  very  given  to  senti 
ments,  in  particular  about  "  Ewigweibliche," 
and  I  never  knew  a  man  that  kept  himself 
more  entertained.  He  settled  down  for  the 
time,  with  Veronica  and  Kamelillo  for  his 
family,  in  a  fine  house  in  the  upper  town  of 
San  Francisco.  Kamelillo  used  to  cook  uiv. 
likely  things  which  Kreps  and  Veronica  ate 
peaceable  between  them.  Kreps  was  well- 
to-do,  and  he  seemed  cut  out  for  a  happy 
life.  Any  kind  of  cooking  suited  him.  The 
whole  world  grew  knowledge  for  him  to 


140  Liebchen 


collect.  He  could  suck  sentiment  out  of  a 
hard-boiled  egg.  But  I  went  to  live  with 
Stevey  Todd  where  the  cooking  was  better, 
and  loafed  about  the  streets  and  docks, 
wondering  what  I'd  do  next.  I  never  knew 
what  became  of  Kreps  after  we  left  San 
Francisco. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SaDler  in  Saleratug.   Gbe  Green  Dragon  fcago&a. 
Iftarrative  <3oes  <Sm 


ONE  day  I  was  by  the  docks,  where 
some  people  were  busy  and  some 
were  like  me,  loafing  or  looking  for  a  berth  ; 
and  I  came  on  a  neat-looking,  three-masted 
ship,  named  the  Good  Sister,  which  appeared 
to  me  a  kindly  name.  She  was  being  over 
hauled  by  the  carpenters.  I  asked  one  of 
them,  "  Where's  the  captain?  " 

"  She  ain't  got  any,"  he  says.  "  It's  the 
owners  are  doing  it." 

"  Maybe  you'll  remark/'  I  says,  "  who 
they  happen  to  be." 

"  Shan  and  Sadler  of  Saleratus,"  he  says. 

"  I  believe  you're  a  liar,"  I  says,  surprised 
at  the  name. 

"  Which  there's  a  little  tallow-faced  runt 
in  perspective,"  he  says,  climbing  down  the 
stays,  "  that  I  can  lick,"  he  says,  being  mis- 
141 


142  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

led  by  my  size.  And  when  that  was  over, 
I  started  for  Saleratus. 

It  was  a  town  to  the  south,  down  near  the 
coast.  That's  not  its  name  now,  because 
it's  reformed  and  doesn't  like  to  remember 
the  days  before  it  was  regenerated.  At  that 
time  some  of  it  was  Mexican,  and  more  of 
it  was  Chinese,  and  some  of  it  wasn't  con 
nected  with  anything  but  perdition. 

Shan  and  Sadler  did  a  mixed  mercan 
tile  business,  and  they  seemed  to  be  pros 
perous  people,  but  I  take  it  Fu  Shan  mainly 
carried  on  the  business,  and  Sadler  was 
the  reason  why  the  firm's  property  was  re 
spected  and  let  alone  by  the  Caucasians. 
There  is  a  big  Chinese  company  in  Singa 
pore,  called  "  Shan  Brothers,"  whose  name 
is  well  known  on  bills  of  lading,  and  Fu  Shan 
was  connected  with  them.  But  a  man 
wouldn't  have  thought  to  find  Sadler  a  part 
ner  in  banking,  mercantile,  and  shipping 
business,  with  a  Chinaman.  He'd  been  the 
wildest  of  us  all  in  the  Hebe  Maitland  days, 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  143 

and  always  acted  youthful  for  his  years. 
There  were  two  things  in  him  that  never 
could  get  to  keep  the  peace  with  each  other, 
his  conscience  and  his  sporting  instinct. 
Yet  he  was  a  capable  man,  and  forceful,  and 
I  judge  he  could  do  'most  anything  he  set  his 
hand  to. 

He  and  Fu  Shan  lived  just  outside  the 
town  of  Saleratus  in  two  ornamented  and  ex 
pensive  houses,  side  by  side,  on  a  hill  that  was 
bare  and  mostly  sand  banks,  and  that  hung 
over  the  creek  which  ran  past  the  town  into 
the  bay.  Sadler  lived  alone  with  Irish,  but 
Fu  Shan  was  domestic.  He  was  a  pleasant 
Oriental  with  a  mild,  squeaking  voice,  and 
had  more  porcelain  jars  than  you  would 
think  a  body  would  need,  and  fat  yellow 
cheeks,  and  a  queue  down  to  his  knees. 
He  wore  cream-coloured  silk,  and  was  a 
picture  of  calmness  and  culture.  Irish 
hadn't  changed,  but  Sadler  was  looking 
older  and  more  melancholy,  though  I  judged 
that  some  of  the  lines  on  his  face,  that  simu- 


144  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

lated  care,  came  from  the  kind  of  life  folks 
led  in  Saleratus  to  avoid  monotony.  We 
spoke  of  Craney  among  others,  but  Sadler 
knew  no  more  of  Craney  than  I  did.  Likely 
he  was  still  in  Corazon. 

We  were  sitting  one  evening  on  Sadler's 
porch,  that  looked  over  the  creek,  waiting 
for  supper.  Fu  Shan  was  there,  and  Sad 
ler  said  Saleratus  was  monotonous.  Yet 
there  were  going  on  in  Saleratus  to  my 
knowledge  at  that  moment  the  following 
entertainments:  three-card  monte  at  the 
Blue  Light  Saloon;  a  cockfight  at  Pas- 
quarillo's ;  two  alien  sheriffs  in  town  looking 
for  horse  thieves,  and  had  one  corralled  on 
the  roof  of  the  courthouse;  finally  some 
other  fellows  were  trying  to  drown  a  China 
man  in  the  creek  and  getting  into  all  kinds 
of  awkwardness  on  account  of  there  being 
no  water  in  the  creek  to  speak  of,  and  other 
Chinamen  throwing  stones.  But  Sadler 
said  it  was  monotonous. 

"  I  don't  get  no  satisfaction  out  of  it." 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  145 

Over  the  top  of  the  town  you  could 
catch  the  sunset  on  the  sea,  and  the  smoke 
of  the  chimneys  rose  up  between.  There 
were  red  roses  all  over  the  pillars  and  eaves 
of  the  porch.  Seemed  to  me  it  was  a  good 
enough  place.  Fu  Shan  smoked  scented 
and  sugared  tobacco  in  a  porcelain  pipe  with 
an  ivory  stem.  The  fellows  down  by  the 
creek  ran  away,  feeling  pretty  good  and 
cracking  their  revolvers  in  the  air,  and  the 
Chinamen  got  bunched  about  their  injured 
countryman. 

"  Have  no  water  in  cleek,"  says  Fu  Shan, 
aristocratic  and  peaceful.  "  Dlied  up." 

"  Dried  up.  Played  out."  says  Sadler, 
not  understanding  him.  "  Fu  Shan's  a  dry- 
rotted  Asiatic.  Doesn't  anything  make  any 
difference  to  him.  Got  any  nerves?  Not 
one.  Got  any  seethin'  emotions?  Not  a 
seeth.  He's  a  wornout  race  in  the  numb 
ness  of  decrepitude." 

Fu  Shan  chuckled. 

"But   me,   I'm   different,"   says   Sadler. 


146  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

"  The  uselessness  of  things  bothers  me. 
Look  at  'em.  I  been  in  Saleratus  five  years, 
partner  with  Fu  Shan.  Sometimes  I  had 
a  good  time.  Where  is  it  now?  You 
laugh,  or  you  sigh.  Same  amount  of  wind, 
nothing  left  either  way. 

What's  the  use? 

You  chew  tobacco  and  spit  out  the  juice. 

What's  the  use? 

If  there's  anybody  with  a  destiny  that's  got 
any  assets  at  all,  and  he  wants  to  swap  even, 
bring  him  along.  Look  at  this  town!  Is 
it  any  sort  of  a  town?  No  honesty,  for 
there  ain't  a  man  in  it  that  can  shuffle  a  pack 
without  stackin'  it.  No  ability,  for  there 
ain't  more'n  one  or  two  can  stack  it  real 
well.  No  seriousness,  for  they  start  in  to 
drown  a  Chinaman  in  a  dry  creek,  and  they 
cut  away  as  happy  as  if  they'd  succeeded. 
I  sits  up  here  on  my  porch,  and  I  says, 
'  What  is  it  but  a  dream  ?  Fu  Shan,'  I  says, 
'this  here  life's  a  shadow!'  Then  that 
forsaken,  conceited,  blank  heathen,  he  says 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  147 

one  of  his  ancestors  discovered  the  same 
three  thousand  years  ago.  But,  he  says, 
another  ancestor,  pretty  near  as  distin 
guished,  he  discovered  that,  if  you  put 
enough  curry  on  your  rice,  it  gives  things 
an  appearance  of  reality.  Which,  says  he, 
they  discovered  the  uselessness  of  things  in 
Asia  so  long  ago  they've  forgot  when,  and 
then  they  discovered  the  uselessness  of  the 
discovery.  They  discovered  gunpowder,  he 
says,  long  before  we  did,  but  they  use  it  for 
fireworks  in  the  interests  of  irony.  They've 
forgotten  more'n  we  ever  knew,  says  he,  the 
stuck-up  little  cast-eyed  pig.  Go  on!  I'm 
disgusted.  Haven't  I  put  on  curry  till  it 
give  me  a  furred  mouth  and  dyspepsia  of 
the  soul?  What's  the  use?" 

Fu  Shan  chuckled  again. 

"  What's  the  use?  "  says  Sadler.  "  Things 
happen,  but  they  don't  mean  anything  by  it. 
You  hustle  around  the  circle.  You  might 
as  well  have  sat  down  on  the  circumfer 
ence.  Maybe  the  trouble  is  with  me, 


148  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

maybe  it's  Saleratus.  One  of  us  is  played 
out!" 

Fu  Shan  took  the  ivory  pipestem  from 
his  mouth,  and  spoke  placid  and  squeaking. 
"  My  got  blother  have  joss  house  by  Lan- 
goon.  Velly  good  joss  house,  velly  good 
ploperty.  Tlee  hundred  Buddha  joss  and 
gleen  dlagons.  My  ancestors  make  him. 
Gleen  dlagon  joss  house.  Velly  good." 

"  My!  You'd  think  he's  an  id  jit  to  hear 
him,"  says  Sadler,  and  looked  at  Fu  Shan, 
admiring.  "  But  he  ain't,  not  really." 

Fu  Shan  chuckled  a  third  time. 

He  took  no  more  stock  in  the  happiness 
of  his  countrymen  than  Sadler  did  in  the 
morals  of  his.  They  seemed  to  be  a  profit 
able  combination,  but  I  didn't  make  out  to 
understand  Sadler,  though  I  went  as  far  as 
to  see  that  he  had  a  variegated  way  of  put 
ting  it. 

Then  I  told  him  I  wanted  a  first  mate's 
berth  on  the  Good  Sister,  supposing  he  was 
willing,  either  on  account  of  old  times  or 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  149 

because  he  might  happen  to  be  convinced  I 
was  good  enough  for  it.  I  told  him  the  ex 
periences  I'd  had.  What  had  happened  to 
the  Helen  Mar  I  told  him,  and  about  the 
Mituas  business,  and  the  loss  of  the  Ana 
conda,  and  even  about  Kreps  and  Liebchen. 

"  My !  My !  Tommy,"  he  says,  after  the 
last.  "  That's  a  lyric  poem,"  he  says,  refer 
ring  to  Kreps  and  Liebchen. 

But  he  said  nothing  then  about  the  Good 
Sister,  and  I  decided  to  hang  around  till  he 
did,  and  one  day  he  brought  me  a  bundle  of 
papers. 

"  Here's  your  papers,  Tommy,"  he  says. 

"Which?"  I  says. 

"  Captain's  articles  for  Tommy  Bucking 
ham.  Sign  'em,"  he  says,  "  and  don't  be  mo 
notonous/'  and  I  was  that  scared  I  signed 
my  name  so  it  looked  like  a  rail  fence.  I 
contracted  to  be  master  of  the  ship  Good 
Sister,  the  same  to  go  to  Hong-Kong 
Manila,  Singapore,  and  return. 

"  You  go  up  to  'Frisco  and  'list  the  crew," 


150  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

he  says.    "  I'm  coming  myself  by-and-by  to 
look  'em  over." 

It  was  my  first  ship,  and  long  ago,  but 
the  pride  of  it  sticks  out  of  me  yet. 

I  went  back  to  'Frisco  and  hired  Stevey 
Todd  for  cook,  and  I  recollect  taking  for 
ship's  carpenter  the  man  that  called  me  a 
"  tallow  little  runt,"  which  he  got  misled, 
there,  and  he  went  by  the  name  of  "  Mitchi- 
gan."  I  took  Kamelillo  too,  who  wanted  to 
go  to  sea  again,  but  Kreps  stayed  where  he 
was. 

On  the  day  the  Good  Sister  sailed,  Sad 
ler  came  aboard  with  a  valise  in  his  hand, 
and  after  him,  carrying  a  valise,  was  Irish, 
and  after  Irish  was  an  old  Burmese  servant 
of  Fu  Shan's  that  I  used  to  see  sweeping 
the  porch,  whose  name  was  Maya  Dala. 

"  I'm  going  along,"  says  Sadler,  and 
Irish  says,  "  Soime  here."  But  neither  of 
them  said  what  for,  and  I  thought  maybe 
Sadler  was  thinking  he'd  see  me  safe 
through  the  first  trip,  or  maybe  it  occurred 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  151 

to  him  to  go  and  take  a  look  at  Asia.  How 
should  I  know? 

We  went  through  the  Golden  Gate  that 
afternoon,  and  we  sat  that  night  in  the 
cabin,  while  Maya  Dala  and  Irish  cleared 
the  table.  The  oil  lamp  swung  overhead 
with  the  lift  and  fall  of  the  ship,  and  Sad 
ler  spread  himself  six  feet  and  more  on  the 
cabin  lounge,  and  unloaded  his  mind. 

"  You  remember  what  Fu  Shan  said  of 
his  brother's  joss  house  ?  "  he  says.  "  It's 
this  way.  Why,  Fu  Shan  had  a  father 
once,  named  Lo  Tsin  Shan,  and  he  was  a 
sort  of  mandarin  family  in  China.  He 
went  to  Singapore  and  started  in  the  tea 
business.  He  had  a  large  hard  head.  He 
went  into  a  lot  of  different  enterprises,  and 
cut  a  considerable  swath.  He  died  and 
left  ten  or  twelve  sons,  who  scattered  to  look 
after  his  enterprises.  That's  how  Fu  Shan 
came  to  Saleratus  six  years  ago.  Fu  Shan 
was  always  some  stuck  on  his  own  intellect, 
and  at  that  time  he  thought  he  could  play 


152  Sadler  in  Saleratus 


cards,  but  he  couldn't.  I  cleared  him  out  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  one  night,  and  we 
went  into  partnership,  but  that's  neither  here 
nor  there.  Now,  Lo  Tsin  Shan  appears  to 
have  been  a  little  fishy  as  to  his  feelings,  but 
he  had  brains.  Fu  Shan's  opinion  is  rever 
ential,  and  he  don't  admit  the  fish.  Lo  Tsin 
had  an  agency  at  Calcutta,  and  Bur- 
mah  lies  on  the  way,  but  it  wasn't  com 
mercial  in  those  days.  Now,  in  Burmah 
there's  a  navigable  river  that  runs  the  length 
of  the  country,  and  all  along  it  are  cities 
full  of  temples,  some  of  'em  deserted,  and 
some  of  'em  lively.  One  of  the  best  is  at 
Rangoon  on  a  hill,  and  it's  called  the  Shway 
Dagohn  Pagoda.  There's  a  lot  of  relics  in 
it,  and  smaller  temples  around,  and  strings 
of  pilgrims  coming  from  as  far  as  Ceylon 
and  China.  Remarkable  holy  place.  Old 
Lo  Tsin,  he  drops  down  there  one  day  and 
looks  around.  His  fishy  feelin's  got  inter 
ested,  and  he  says  to  himself,  '  Guess  I'll 
come  into  this.'  He  went  sailin'  up  the 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  153 

river  till  he  found  a  king  somewhere,  who 
appeared  to  own  the  whole  country.  This 
one's  pastime  was  miscellaneous  murder,  but 
his  taste  for  tea  was  cultured  and  accurate. 
Then  Lo  Tsin  got  down  on  the  floor  and 
kowtowed  to  this  king  for  an  hour  and  a 
half,  the  way  it  comes  natural  if  you  have  the 
right  kind  of  clothes.  Then  he  bought  a 
temple  of  him.  It  stands  at  the  foot  of  the 
south  stairway  of  the  Shway  Dagohn.  Fu 
Shan  ain't  sure  what  the  old  man's  idea 
was,  whether  it  was  pure  business  or  not. 
Anyway  he  worked  up  the  reputation  of  the 
temple,  till  there  was  none  in  the  place  to 
equal  it,  except  the  Shway  Dagohn,  which 
he  didn't  pretend  to  compete  with.  He  ad 
vertised  it  on  his  tea.  *  Shan  Brothers ' 
have  a  brand  still  called  '  Green  Dragon 
Pagocja  Tea/  There  wasn't  no  real  doubt 
but  the  income  of  the  temple  was  large,  and 
yet  it  didn't  appear  at  Lo  Tsin's  death  that 
he'd  ever  drawn  anything  out  of  it.  The 
whole  thing  was  gold-leafed  from  top  to 


154  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

bottom,  and  full  of  bronze  and  lacquer 
statues,  and  two  green  dragons  at  the  gate, 
and  ministerin'  angels  know  what  besides. 
Maybe  Fu  Shan's  information  ain't  com 
plete  on  that  point,  but  this  was  a  fact,  that 
Lo  Tsin,  by  the  will  he  made,  instead  of 
going  back  to  his  ancestral  cemetery  in 
China,  he  had  himself  carried  up  from 
Singapore  and  buried  in  that  same  temple; 
and  there  he  is  under  the  stone  floor  in  the 
temple  of  the  Green  Dragon,  but  that's  not 
to  the  point.  Now,  when  they  came  to  split 
up  his  enterprises  among  his  sons,  one  of 
'em  took  the  temple  for  a  living.  His  name 
was  Lum  Shan.  But  Fu  Shan  says,  Lum 
would  rather  come  over  to  America  and  go 
into  business  in  Saleratus.  Lum  Shan  don't 
like  his  temple,  but  I  don't  know  why. 
Well,  then,  I  says,  *  Speak  up,  Fu  Shan. 
Don't  be  bashful,  Asia.  If  you've  got  a 
medicine  for  the  hopeless,  let  it  come,  Asia. 
What's  five  thousand  years  got  to  say  to  a 
man  with  an  absolute  constitution,  a  stomach 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  155 

voracious  and  untroubled,  who  looks  around 
him  and  sees  no  utility  anywhere  ?  Ebb  and 
flow,  work  and  eat,  born  and  dead,  rain  and 
shine,  things  swashin'  around,  a  heave  this 
way  and  then  that.  You  write  a  figure  on 
the  board  and  wipe  it  out.  What's  the  use  ? 
Speak  up,  Asia,  but  don't  recommend  no 
more  curry.'  'Hi!  Hi!'  says  Fu  Shan, 
the  little  yeller  id  jit!  'My  got  blother 
have  joss  house  by  Langoon.  All  light. 
He  tlade.  You  go  lun  joss  house  by  Lan 
goon.  Vely  good  ploperty.'  That's  what 
he  said.  Why  not?  That's  the  way  I 
looked  at  it." 

He  paused  and  blew  smoke.  Maya  Dala 
and  Irish  were  gone.  I  asked,  "  Are  you 
learning  Burmese  off  Maya  Dala?  "  and  he 
nodded. 

"  Now,"  I  says,  "  what  I  don't  see  is  this 
temple  business.  Where  was  the  profit? 
Don't  temples  belong  to  the  priests?  " 

"  Seems  not  always,"  he  says.  "  They're 
a  kind  of  monks,  anyway.  It's  where 


156  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

old  Lo  Tsin  Shan  was  original  to  begin 
with  and  mysterious  afterward.  Sup 
pose  a  Siamese  prince  brings  a  pound  of 
gold  leaf  to  gild  things  with,  and  some  Cey 
lon  pilgrims  leave  a  few  dozen  little  bronze 
images  with  a  ruby  in  each  eye.  They've. 
'  acquired  merit/  so  they  say.  It  goes  to 
their  credit  on  some  celestial  record.  Their 
next  existence  will  be  the  better  to  that  ex 
tent  anyway,  now.  Suppose  the  temple's 
gilded  all  over,  and  lumber  rooms  packed 
to  the  roof  with  bronze  images  already.  Do 
they  care  what  becomes  of  these  things? 
Don't  seem  to.  Why  should  they  ?  They're 
credited  on  one  ledger.  You  credit  the 
same  to  the  business  on  another.  Economic, 
ain't  it?  That  way  the  old  man's  percep 
tion,  to  begin  with.  But  afterwards,— 
maybe  his  joss  house  got  to  be  a  hobby 
with  him.  Oh,  i  don't  know !  Nor  I  don't 
care.  Fu  Shan  says  it's  good  property. 
What  he  says  is  generally  so.  Profits!  I 
don't  care?  about  profits.  What  good  would 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  1 57 

they  do  me?     I'm  going  to  run  that  temple 
if  it  ain't  too  monotonous." 

That  was  the  limit  of  Sadler's  knowl 
edge  of  this  thing.  Maya  Dala  remem 
bered  the  Shway  Dagohn,  but  as  to  the  other 
pagodas  and  monasteries, — there  were 
many — he  didn't  know — he  thought  they 
belonged  to  the  monks,  or  to  the  caretakers, 
or  to  no  one  at  all,  or  maybe  the  govern 
ment.  What  became  of  the  offerings  ?  He 
thought  they  were  kept  in  the  pagodas. 
Sometimes  they  were  sold  ?  It  might  be  so. 
He  thought  it  made  no  difference,  for  it  was 
taught  in  the  monastery  schools,  that  the 
"  Giver  acquires  merit  only  by  his  action  and 
the  spirit  of  his  giving,  wherefore  are  the 
merits  of  the  poor  and  rich  equal."  Why 
should  they  care  what  became  of  their  gifts  ? 
From  Maya  Dala's  talk  one  seemed  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  idea,  which  occurred  to  old 
Lo  Tsin  Shan,  that  fishy  Oriental,  one  day 
forty  years  before,  and  sent  him  up  the  river 
to  interview  King  Tharawady  on  his  gold- 


158  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

lacquer  and  mosaic  throne.  Yet  he  had  let 
the  profits  lie  there,  if  there  were  any,  maybe 
thinking  all  along  of  the  handsome  tomb  he 
was  putting  up  for  himself,  when  his  time 
came.  You  couldn't  guess  all  his  Mongolian 
thoughts,  nor  those  of  his  son,  Fu  Shan,  of 
whom  Sadler  asked  medicine  for  a  dyspeptic 
soul.  Fu  Shan  said,  "  Go  lun  joss  house  by 
Langoon."  Sadler  didn't  seem  to  care  about 
the  business  part  of  it  either,  though  it 
looked  interesting.  He  only  wanted  the 
medicine. 

Days  and  nights  we  talked  it  over  and 
got  no  further  than  that,  and  drew  nearer 
the  East.  The  East  is  a  muddy  sea  with 
no  bottom,  and  it  swallows  a  man  like  a 
fog  bank  swallows  a  ship. 

Sadler  made  some  verses  that  he  called  his 
"  Prayer;  "— "  Sadler's  prayer,"  and  he. told 
me  them  one  wet  day,  when  a  half  gale  was 
blowing,  and  he  sat  smoking  with  his  feet 
hitched  over  the  rail.  He  appeared  to  be 
trying  to  get  a  bead  on  infinity  across  the 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  159 

point  of  his  shoe.     It  ran  this  way,  begin 
ning,  "  Lord  God  that  o'erulest" : 

"  Lord  God  that  o'er-rulest 
The  waters,  and  coolest 
The  face  of  the  foolish 
With  the  touch  of  thy  death, 
I,  Sadler,  a  Yankee, 
Lean,  leathery,  lanky, 
Red-livered  and  cranky, 
And  weary  of  breath, 

"  That  hain't  no  theology 
But  a  sort  of  doxology, 
Here's  my  apology, 
Maker  of  me, 
Here  where  I'm  sittin', 
Smooth  as  a  kitten, 
Smokin'  and  spittin' 
Into  the  sea. 

"  The  storm-winds  come  sweeping 
Come  widowed  and  weepin', 
Come  rippin'  and  reapin', 
The  wheat  of  the  foam, 
And  some  says,  it's  sport,  boys, 
It's  timbrels  and  hautboys, 
And  some  is  the  sort,  boys, 
That's  sorry  he  come. 

"  Lord  God  of  the  motions 
Of  lumberin'  oceans, 
There's  some  of  your  notions 
Is  handsome  and  free. 


160  Sadler  in  Saleratus 

But  what  in  the  brewin' 
And  sizzlin,'  and  stewin' 
Did  you  think  you  was  doin* 
The  time  you  done  me? 

"  Evil  and  good 

Did  ye  squirt  in  my  blood? 
I  stand  where  I  stood 
When  my  runnin'  began; 
And  the  start  and  the  goal 
Were  the  same  in  my  soul, 
And  the  damnable  whole 
Was  entitled  a  man. 

"  Lord  God  that  o'er-gazest 
The  waste  and  wet  places, 
The  faint  foolish  faces 
Turned  upward  to  Thee, 
Though  Thy  sight  goeth  far 
O'er  our  rabble  and  war 
Yet  remember  we  are 
The  drift  of  Thy  sea." 

Sadler  left  the  Good  Sister  at  Singapore, 
and  disappeared. 

He  dropped  out  of  sight.  Afterward  his 
name  went  from  the  letter  heads  of  "  Sadler 
and  Shan."  They  read,  "  Shan  Brothers, 
Saleratus,  Cal.  Fu  Shan — Lum  Shan." 

He  was  a  singular  man  was  Sadler.  He 
held  the  opinion  that  this  life  was  an  idea 


Sadler  in  Saleratus  161 

that  occurred  to  somebody,  who  was  tired  of 
it  and  would  like  to  get  it  off  his  mind. 
I  took  him  for  one  that  had  got  too  much 
conscience,  or  too  much  restlessness,  one  of 
the  two,  and  between  them  they  gave  him 
dyspepsia  of  the  soul.  Sometimes  that  dys 
pepsia  took  him  bad,  and  when  he  had  one 
of  those  spells  he'd  light  out  into  poetry 
scandalous.  Some  folks  are  built  that  way, 
some  not.  J.  R.  Craney,  for  instance,  he 
was  a  romantic  man,  and  gifted  according 
to  his  own  line,  and  had  airy  notions  ahead 
of  him  that  he  pretty  near  caught  up  to; 
but  as  to  metres,  he  couldn't  tell  metres 
from  cord-wood.  Yet  the  first  time  I  saw 
him  again,  after  leaving  him  at  Corazon,  he 
heaved  some  at  me,  but  he  didn't  know  it 
was  poetry.  It  was  some  years  later.  I 
sailed  the  Good  Sister  quite  a  time,  and  did 
pretty  well  by  her. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Tfting  3-ulfus 

IT  was  back  in  San  Francisco  and  several 
years  after,  and  I  was  master  of  the 
Good  Sister  still,  but  not  feeling  agreeable  at 
the  time,  because  Fu  Shan  and  the  agent  at 
'Frisco  kept  me  sitting  around  collecting 
barnacles.  They  didn't  seem  to  know  what 
they  wanted  me  to  do  with  her.  I  guess  the 
business  of  Sadler  and  Shan  didn't  prosper 
well  for  a  while  after  Sadler  left,  on  account 
of  sportive  Caucasians. 

I  was  leaning  over  the  rail  one  day,  look 
ing  across  the  wharf,  and  I  saw  J.  R.  Craney 
come  strolling  down  with  one  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  the  other  pulling  a  chin  beard. 
He  hadn't  changed  so  much,  except  that  he 
looked  older  and  had  a  chin  beard  and  wore 
a  long  black  coat  and  plush  vest.  He  looked 

at  the  Good  Sister,  and  he  looked  at  me,  and 
163 


King  Julius  163 


neither  of  us  said  anything  for  a  long  time, 
and  his  business  eye  was  absent-minded  and 
calm,  and  the  blind  one  pale  and  dead-look 
ing.  Then  I  says : 

"  Why  don't  you  get  a  glass  eye,  Cra- 
ney?"  and  he  says,  "I  wished  you'd  call 
me  J.  R.  Phipp.  What  you  doing  with  that 
there  ship?  "  which  was  a  promising  rhyme, 
but  he  didn't  know  he'd  done  it.  I  judged 
his  family  name  had  been  collecting  bar 
nacles,  till  it  wasn't  worth  cleaning  maybe, 
or  maybe  he  was  a  fugitive  or  exile  from 
Corazon,  or  maybe  he'd  speculated  in  mat 
rimony,  and  was  fleeing  from  hot  water, 
or  maybe  kettles,  or  maybe  he'd  assassi 
nated  his  great  aunt's  second  cousin's  hus 
band,  which  was  no  business  of  mine,  any 
of  it. 

"  Look  here,"  I  says,  not  feeling  agree 
able.  "  Here's  my  programme.  You  go 
up  to  22  Market  Street,  and  ask  the  agent. 
Then  he'll  say  he  don't  know.  Then  you'll 
tell  him  he's  a  three-cornered  idiot,  because 


164  King  Julius 

you'll  admire  the  truth,  and  come  back  and 
we'll  have  a  drink." 

"  All  right,"  he  says,  absent-minded  and 
calm,  and  went  off  up  Market  Street.  By- 
and-by  the  agent  came  down  with  Craney 
floating  behind. 

"This  is  Mr.  J.  R.  Phipp,"  says  the 
agent,  "  who  has  chartered  the  Good  Sister. 
Get  her  ready.  Mr.  Phipp  will  superintend 
cargo  himself  and  sail  with  you." 

That  was  the  way  it  happened.  Craney 
spent  days  going  round  the  stores  in  the  city 
and  buying  everything  that  took  his  eyes. 
He  bought  house-furnishings  and  pictures, 
toys,  horns,  drums,  cases  of  tobacco  and 
spirits,  glass  ornaments  and  plaster  statues, 
crockery  and  cutlery,  guns,  clothes,  neck 
ties,  and  silk  handkerchiefs,  and  cheap  jew 
elry.  He'd  go  in  and  ask  for  a  drygoods 
box.  Then  he'd  potter  around  the  shop  till 
the  box  was  full.  He'd  buy  out  a  show  case 
of  goods,  and  maybe  he'd  buy  the  show  case. 
He  bought  barrels  full  of  old  magazines  and 


King  Julius  165 


books  on  theology  and  law,  and  a  cord  or 
two  of  ten-cent  novels,  and  some  poetry  that 
was  handy,  and  three  encyclopaedias,  and 
two  or  three  kinds  of  dogs,  and  a  basket 
phaeton  with  green  wheels,  and  a  printing 
press,  and  a  stereopticon.  The  agent  says 
to  me: 

"  He  has  a  scheme  for  trading  in  the 
South  Pacific.  He's  a  lunatic,  and  he's  paid 
for  six  months.  Send  me  news  when  you 
get  a  chance,  and  come  back  by  Honolulu 
for  directions.  He's  a  lunatic,"  he  says, 
"  and  you'd  better  lose  him  somewhere  and 
get  a  commission  on  the  time  saved." 

Then  he  hurried  off  the  way  you'd  think 
he  was  a  man  with  energy,  instead  of  one 
that  would  sit  still  and  let  the  weeds  grow  in 
his  hair.  But  Craney  went  on  buying  chan 
deliers  and  chess-boards  and  clocks  and 
women's  things,  such  as  dresses  and  ostrich- 
feathers  hats,  and  baby  carriages,  and  para 
sols,  and  an  allotment  of  assorted  dinner- 
bells,  and  one  side  of  a  drug  store.  I  don't 


1 66  King  Julius 

know  all  there  was  in  his  cases,  only  I 
judged  there  wasn't  any  monotony.  I  says : 

"  Maybe  now  you  might  be  done." 

He  came  aboard  and  looked  thoughtful. 
Then  he  felt  in  his  pocket  and  pulled  out  a 
bunch  of  knitting  needles,  and  looked 
thoughtful. 

"  Well,"  he  says.  "  I  rather  wanted  to 
look  up  some  front  porches,  ready  made, 
with  door-knockers,  but  I  didn't  get  to  it. 
It's  just  as  well." 

We  dropped  out  of  the  Gate  with  the 
tide  on  a  Saturday  night,  and  stood  away  to 
the  southwest. 

Craney  was  always  a  talkative  man,  lik 
ing  to  open  out  his  point  of  view.  At  first  I 
thought  he'd  gone  lunatic  of  late,  and  then 
again  when  he  showed  me  his  point  of  view, 
I  found  he  hadn't  changed  so  much,  as  got 
more  so. 

Many  nights  we  sat  on  deck  in  the  moon 
light  and  with  a  light  breeze  pushing  in  the 
sails,  for  the  weather  in  the  main  was  steady, 


King  Julius  167 


and  he'd  smoke  a  fat  cigar,  and  look  at  the 
little  shining  clouds.  He'd  talk  and  specu 
late,  sometimes  shrewd,  and  then  again  it 
was  like  a  matter  of  adding  a  shipload  of 
pirates  to  the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  and  getting 
the  New  Jerusalem  for  a  result.  By-and-by, 
I  felt  that  way  myself,  as  if,  supposing  you 
kept  on  sailing  long  enough,  you  might  run 
down  an  island  full  of  mixed  myths  and 
happy  angels.  Sure  he  was  romantic. 

"  I'm  a  romantic  man,  Tommy,"  he  says. 
"  That's  my  secret.  Yes,  sir,  Romance,  that's 
me !  That's  the  centre  of  my  circumference, 
that's  the  gravity  of  my  orbit,  that's  the  num 
ber  of  my  combination.  Visions,  ideals! 
I'm  a  man  to  get  up  and  look  for  the  beyond. 
I  want  to  expand !  I  want  to  permeate !  I 
want  the  beyond!  Here  I  am,  fifty  years 
old.  I  gets  up  and  looks  out  on  to  the  world. 
I  says :  '  J.  R.,  this  won't  do.  Is  it  for  noth 
ing  that  you're  a  man  of  romance?  Is  it  for 
nothing  that  you  long  to  permeate,  to  ex 
pand?  The  soul  of  man,'  I  says,  'is  airy; 


1 68  King  Julius 

it's  full  of  draughts.  Your  soul,  J.  R.,  flaps 
like  a  tent/  I  says,  *  in  the  breezes  of  dawn. 
The  world  is  round.  Time  is  fleeting.  Is 
man  an  ox  ?  No.  Is  he  a  patent  inkstand  ? 
No.  Was  he  created  to  occupy  a  house  and 
fit  his  head  to  a  hat  ?  No.  Then  why  delay  ? 
Why  smother  your  longings  ?  '  I  says ;  '  J. 
R.,  this  won't  do.  This  ain't  your  destiny. 
Rise !  Be  winged !  Chase  the  ideal !  Get  on 
the  vastness !  Seek  and  find ! '  But  what  ? 
I  says,,  '  Fame,  fortune,  a  vocation  that's 
worthy  of  you.'  Where?  I  says,  *  In  the 
beyond.'  Then  I  took  a  map,  Tommy,  and 
looked  over  the  world ;  I  examined  the  globe ; 
I  took  stock  of  the  earth,  and  compared 
lands,  seas,  climates.  The  likeliest-looking 
place  appeared  to  be  the  South  Pacific  Ocean. 
Why  ?  It  appeared  to  be,  in  general,  beyond. 
It  was  the  biggest  thing  on  the  map.  It  was 
tropical.  Palm-trees,  spicy  odours,  corals, 
pearls.  'All  right,'  I  says:  ' J.  R.,  it 
wouldn't  take  much  to  be  a  millionaire  in 
those  unpolluted  regions.  You'd  be  a  poten- 


King  Julius  169 


tate.  You'd  wear  picturesque  clothes,  and 
lie  on  poppies  and  lotuses.  You'd  be  a  Solo 
mon  to  those  guileless  nations.  You'd 
instruct  their  ignorance  and  preserve  their 
morals.  You'd  lead  their  armies  to  victory 
on  account  of  your  natural  gifts.  You'd 
have  your  birthdays  celebrated  with  torch 
light  processions.  You'd  be  a  luxurious 
patriot.'  Now  that's  a  pleasant  way  of 
looking  at  it.  But  it  seemed  to  me 
the  likeliest  thing  was  to  go  out  as  a 
trader.  Now  as  to  trading.  Sitting  on 
a  stool  and  figuring  discounts  is  business, 
and  trading  cheese-cloth  for  parrots  is  busi 
ness  too.  A  horse  is  an  animal,  and  so's  a 
potato-bug.  But  I  take  it  where  society 
is  loose  and  business  isn't  a  system,  there's 
always  chance  for  a  man  with  natural  gifts. 
But  you're  going  to  ask  me :  What  for  is  all 
this  mixture  I've  got  aboard?  If  some  of 
it's  tradable,  you'd  say,  there  must  be  a  deal 
of  it  isn't.  And  I  ask  you  back,  Tommy: 
Take  it  in  general,  haven't  I  got  a  mixture 


170  King  Julius 

that  represents  civilisation?  Did  you  ever 
see  a  ship  that  had  more  commodious,  mis 
cellaneous,  and  sufficient  civilisation  in  her 
than  this?  I'm  taking  out  civilisation. 
Maybe  I'm  calculating  on  a  boom.  Now,  the 
secret  of  a  boom  is  to  spread  out  as  far  as 
you  can  reach,  and  then  flap.  That's  busi 
ness.  When  you've  got  people's  attention, 
you  can  settle  down  and  make  your  bargains. 
Mind  you,"  says  Craney,  turning  on  me  an 
eye  that  was  cold  and  calm — "  mind  you,  I 
don't  say  that's  what  I'm  going  to  do,  nor  I 
don't  say  what  I'm  calculating  to  trade  for. 
Maybe  I  have  an  idea,  and  maybe  I  haven't." 

I  says,  "  Course  you  have." 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  he  says.  "  It's  no  more 
than  reasonable.  But  look  at  all  this  now  " 
— with  one  thumb  in  the  armhole  of  his  vest 
and  waving  his  cigar  with  the  other  hand 
toward  the  moon  and  sea — "  look  at  this 
here  hemisphere.  It's  big  and  still.  The 
kinks  and  creases  of  me  are  smoothing  out. 
I'm  expanding,  permeating.  I  look  out.  I 


King  Julius  171 


see  those  there  shining  waves.  I  says  to 
myself,  '  J.  R.,  as  a  romantic  man,  you  may 
be  said  to  be  getting  there.'  " 

He  used  to  read  some  in  the  daytime, 
but  mostly  he'd  smoke  and  meditate  and  pull 
his  chin  beard,  sitting  on  deck  in  a  red  plush- 
covered  easy-chair,  with  his  feet  on  the  rail. 
One  time  he  had  a  volume  of  poetry  in  his 
hand,  turning  over  the  leaves. 

"  Some  of  it  appears  to  be  sawed  down 
smooth  one  side,"  he  says,  "  and  left  ragged 
on  the  other,  and  some  of  it's  ragged  both 
sides." 

Then  he  read  a  bit  of  it  aloud,  but  it 
didn't  go  right,  for  sometimes  he'd  trot,  as 
you  might  say,  when  he  ought  to  have  gal 
loped,  and  sometimes  he'd  gallop  when  he 
ought  to  have  trotted,  and  sometimes  he'd 
come  along  at  a  mixed  gait.  As  a  rule,  he 
bumped. 

He  was  no  hand  at  poetry.  Nor  was  he 
romantic  to  look  at,  but  thin,  and  sinewy, 
and  one-eyed,  and  some  dried  up,  clean 


172  King  Julius 

shaven  except  for  a  wisp  of  greyish  whisker 
on  his  chin,  and  always  neatly  dressed  now. 
When  he'd  laugh  to  himself,  the  wrinkles 
would  spread  around  his  eyes,  one  blind,  and 
the  other  calm  and  calculating,  and  absent- 
minded.  He'd  sit  with  his  cigar  tilted  up  in 
one  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  his  hat  tilted 
forward,  and  whittle  sticks.  He'd  talk  with 
anybody,  but  mostly  with  me  and  Kamelillo, 
whom  he  appeared  to  be  asking  for  informa 
tion.  Kamelillo  knew  island  dialects  about 
the  same  as  he  did  English,  but  wasn't  much 
for  conversation.  Craney  came  one  day 
with  a  bundle  of  charts,  and  he  collected  me 
and  Kamelillo  in  a  corner  and  spread  his 
charts  on  the  deck.  They  were  old  charts. 

"Now,"  he  says,  "here  is  the  lines  of 
trade." 

He  had  the  regular  routes  all  marked  on 
his  charts. 

"  There  appears  to  be  some  vacant  spaces, 
he  says.  And  there  did.  "  And  here's  about 
the  biggest!  "  And  it  was.  "  There  don't 


King  Julius  173 

seem  to  be  any  island  there,  but  here's  a 
name,  '  Lua,'  only  you  can't  tell  what  it  be 
longs  to."  No  more  you  could.  The  name 
appeared  to  be  dropped  down  there  so  that 
section  of  the  Pacific  wouldn't  look  so  lonely. 
I  brought  out  the  ship's  chart,  but  it  didn't 
give  any  name,  only  two  or  three  islands 
sorted  around  where  Craney's  chart  said 
"  Lua."  It  looked  as  if  you  might  find  one 
of  them,  and  then  again  you  might  not. 

"  Ever  been  on  any  of  'em  ?  "  he  asked. 
I  hadn't  and  Kamelillo  didn't  know,  but 
Jooked  as  if  he  might  have  swallowed  one 
without  remembering  it. 

"Nor  I,"  says  Craney,  "  but  I  know 
there's  likely  to  be  natives  when  the  islands 
are  sizable." 

"  These  might  be  only  coral  circles,"  I 
says. 

"  Well,  I  guess  we'll  go  and  look  at 
'  Lua,'  anyway,"  he  says.  "  A  man  don't 
put  *  Lua '  on  a  map  without  he's  got  some 
idea." 


174  King  Julius 

It  was  nearly  two  months  from  the  day  we 
left  the  coast  of  the  States  when  we  came  to 
the  edge  of  the  letter  "  L,"  as  according  to 
Craney's  chart,  and  we  sailed  along  the  bot 
tom  of  it  and  around  the  curve  of  "  U,"  and 
up  the  inside  on  the  right,  where  the  ship's 
chart  had  an  island,  but  we  missed  it,  if  it 
was  there.  Then  we  came  to  the  top  of  the 
right  leg  of  "  U,"  where  there  might  be  an 
island  on  Craney's  chart,  except  that  it  looked 
more  like  part  of  the  letter.  Craney  says :  • 

"  Try  '  A.'  " 

We  cut  across  into  "  A."  It  was  in  the 
curve  of  the  twist  at  the  end  of  the  "  A  "  that 
we  sighted  land  at  last.  The  ship's  chart 
had  an  island  in  the  neighbourhood,  but 
somewhat  to  the  north.  Likely  Craney's  no 
tion  of  coasting  the  edge  of  the  letters  was 
as  good  as  any.  I  never  claimed  the  ship's 
chart  was  a  good  one,  for  it  wasn't.  I  only 
told  him  I'd  rather  sail  by  the  advertise 
ments  in  a  newspaper  than  by  his. 

There  was  a  reef  at  the  north  end  of  the 


King  Julius  175 


island,  and  we  ran  south  down  the  coast  some 
miles  to  where  it  fell  away  to  the  southwest, 
and  dropped  anchor  at  night  in  a  bay  with 
a  white  beach  and  a  long  row  of  huts  back 
from  it  under  the  trees.  A  bunch  of  natives 
ran  down  and  stood  looking  at  us.  Some  of 
them  swam  out  a  little,  or  paddled  on  a  log, 
and  then  went  back.  There  was  a  splash 
ing  and  calling  all  night,  and  fires  shining 
on  the  beach.  Kamelillo  thought  he'd 
been  there  before,  but  he  didn't  remember 
when;  but  if  he  had,  it  stuck  in  his  mind, 
there  was  some  trouble  connected  with  it, 
and  with  one  he  called  a  "  bad-lot  chief  " ; 
but  I  told  Craney  that  Kamelillo  had  seen 
too  many  islands  and  too  much  strong  drink 
in  his  career,  and  he  might  be  thinking  of 
something  that  happened  in  New  Zealand. 

In  the  morning  Craney  took  Kamelillo 
•and  went  ashore.  I  saw  the  natives  gath 
ered  around  him.  They  all  went  up  the 
beach  and  disappeared,  and  the  boat  came 
back  with  word  from  Craney  that  he  ana 


176  King  Julius 

Kamelillo  were  going  inland  and  wouldn't 
be  back  before  night.  I  didn't  think  he  ought 
to  go  off  careless  like  that;  but  they  came 
back  safely  about  seven  o'clock,  only  Craney 
seemed  to  be  thoughtful  and  not  talkative. 
He  said  there  was  a  business  opening  there, 
and  he  guessed  he'd  speculate;  and  he  sat 
on  deck  in  his  red  plush  chair  till  past  twelve, 
smoking  fat  cigars  and  staring  at  the  shore. 
The  next  day  he  had  up  three  or  four 
cases  from  the  hold.  There  was  a  crowd 
waiting  for  him  on  the  beach,  and  I  saw 
him  tying  the  boxes  on  poles,  and  some  of 
the  barbarians  shouldered  the  poles,  and 
they  all  went  off  in  procession.  I  didn't  ask 
him  when  he'd  come  back,  and  he  didn't 
come  for  near  a  week.  Only  every  day 
there  would  be  a  native  come  down  and 
dance  around  in  the  shallow  to  attract  atten 
tion,  or  maybe  swim  out  to  the  ship  with  a 
bit  of  paper  in  his  mouth.  And  the  paper 
would  read :  "  O.  K.  Business  progressing. 
Yours,  J.  R."  or;  "  I'm  permeating.  Yours, 


King  Julius  177 


Julius  R."  So  I  judged  it  was  a  peaceful 
island,  and  likely  Craney  had  found  some 
thing  worth  trading  for.  We  went  ashore 
every  day,  but  not  inland.  We  were  satisfied 
to  stay  on  the  beach,  and  to  watch  the  naked 
little  children  dive  in  the  surf,  and  to  play 
tag  with  the  population. 

But  one  day  I  followed  a  path  a  mile  in 
land,  and  climbed  a  hill  and  saw  an  open  val 
ley  to  the  south  with  several  hundred  palm- 
leaf  huts,  and  farther  up  was  more  open 
country  and  some  hills  beyond  thickly  wood 
ed.  I  judged  the  island  was  twenty  miles 
north  and  south,  but  couldn't  see  how  far  it 
went  westward,  and  coming  back,  found  a 
note  for  me :  "  O.  K.  I  never  see  folks  so 
open  to  conviction.  Yours,  J.  R." 

It  was  Craney's  business,  and  not  mine. 
I  thought  to  myself,  sometimes  these  men 
you'd  think  lunatic  weren't  that  way,  only 
they  had  their  point  of  view.  Next  day  there 
was  another  note :  "  Two  of  'em  are  dead. 
I  guess  it's  a  good  thing.  I  bought  it  any- 


178  King  Julius 

way.  Julius  R."  And  while  I  was  thinking 
it  over,  and  thinking  sometimes  these  men 
that  claimed  they'd  got  a  point  of  view  were 
really  lunatic,  Craney  came  back.  He  must 
have  had  three  hundred  natives  following 
him,  and  they  camped  on  the  beach  and 
seemed  to  rejoice,  for  they  danced  and  sang 
most  of  the  night,  while  he  and  I  sat  on  the 
deck  and  talked  it  over. 

"  This  island,"  says  Craney,  "  is  full  of 
politics.  I'll  tell  you.  They  had  a  king 
lately,  and,  according  to  accounts,  he  was 
old  and  fat,  and  his  morals  were  bad.  But 
he  died,  and  up  came  five  candidates  for  the 
place,  and  their  claims  to  it  I  didn't  make  out, 
but  if  it  was  a  question  of  votes,  I  gathered 
the  ballot  was  tolerable  corrupt,  and  if  it 
was  inheritance,  I  took  it  the  late  royalty  had 
so  many  heirs  they  were  common  like  any 
body  else.  But  everybody  was  busy,  and  it 
looked  as  if  business  would  be  dull  for  me, 
and  they  told  me  it  was  no  use  trying  to  be 
neutral.  I'd  have  to  back  one  of 'em.  Course, 


King  Julius  179 


I  didn't  know.  Each  of  the  candidates  occu 
pied  a  corner  of  the  island,  and  now  and 
then  they'd  meet  in  the  middle  for  slaughter. 
What  could  I  do?  Well,  I  tell  you  what  I 
did.  I  hired  five  messengers  and  invited  the 
candidates  to  a  congress.  I  says: 

"  '  Not  more'n  ten  to  each  party.'  And 
they  came. 

"  Kamelillo's  a  good  enough  interpreter, 
only  he's  sort  of  condensed.  If  a  man  makes 
a  speech  of  half  an  hour,  Kamelillo  gives 
a  grunt  to  cover  most  of  it,  and  then  he 
states  what  he  guesses  is  the  point  of  the 
rest.  But  he  did  well  enough. 

"  Then  I  got  in  the  middle  of  'em  and  I 
argued.  I  says: 

"  *  Gentlemen,  this  is  a  peaceful  inter 
view.  Pile  your  weapons.' 

"  I  got  'em  piled  in  a  heap  and  I  sat  on 
'em,  and  argued,  and  the  candidates  argued. 
They  did  pretty  well,  considering  only  one 
of  'em  had  a  shirt.  He  was  old,  too,  and 
had  chicken  bones  in  his  hair,  and,  it  was 


1 80  King  Julius 

curious,  but  he  knew  considerable  English, 
and  could  cuss  skilful  in  it.  The  other  four 
were  younger,,  and  they  appeared  a  good 
deal  surprised  with  the  way  I  argued  it.  I 
says: 

" '  Gentlemen,  there  ain't  room  in  this 
island  for  a  Civil  War.  You  see  it  for  your 
self.  Now  I'll  show  you.  Each  of  you  five 
take  one  spear  and  one  shield,  and  get  into 
the  middle  here  and  fight  it  out.  The  rest  of 
us  '11  watch/ 

"  I  appealed  to  the  fifty  followers,  and 
they  all  agreed  that  was  a  good  thing.  The 
five  candidates  were  doubtful.  The  old  man 
said  he  wasn't  any  good  at  that.  I  says: 

"  '  Venerable,  what  you  want  is  comfort, 
not  to  say  luxury,  for  your  declining  years. 
I'll  guarantee  you  that.  You  stay  quiet.' 
Then  I  knocked  open  a  box  and  showed  him 
assorted  drygoods,  and  says,  '  What  do  you 
say?' 

"  He  thought  it  looked  luxurious,  and 
said  he'd  think  it  over.  By  this  time  the 


King  Julius  181 

others  were  willing  to  fight,  for  their  follow 
ers  all  agreed  it  was  a  good  thing. 

"  I  never  saw  the  equal  of  it,  Tom,  never ! 
I  never  saw  a  dog-fight  come  up  to  it  for 
prompt  execution.  I  won't  harrow  your 
feelings  as  mine  were  harrowed.  I  won't 
puncture  you  with  thrills  as  I  was  punctured. 
We  buried  two  of  'em  decent.  The  other 
two  were  cut  up  and  played  out  quite  a  little. 
I  collected  weapons,  and  I  says: 

"  '  Now  there  are  two  ways.  Either  you 
two  can  have  it  out,  and  when  you're 
through,  anything  that's  left  can  have  it  out 
with  me,  or  I'll  buy  you  as  you  stand.' 

"  They  looked  surprised  to  see  it  put  that 
way.  They  were  low  in  their  spirits.  They 
said  they  didn't  want  to  fight  any  more 
that  week.  I  knocked  open  the  boxes  and 
spread  the  goods,  and  then  they  acted  avari 
cious,  particularly  the  old  man  with  the 
chicken  bones.  Burying  two  of  'em  was 
economic.  I  says : 

" '  Gentlemen,  what's  the  value  you  put 


1 82  King  Julius 

on  your  claims?  State  'em,  and  state  'em 
reasonable." 

"  I  dribbled  out  gingham  dresses,  and 
hair-brushes,  and  pocket  mirrors,  and  col 
ored  prints,  and  bottles  of  bay-rum.  I  never 
saw  folks  act  happier.  I  bought  up  the 
claims.  I  scattered  what  was  left  of  the 
goods  among  the  crowd.  I  got  on  the  empty 
boxes,  and  I  says: 

" '  Here's  your  monarch.  That's  m.e, 
Julius  the  First,  and  only.  If  anybody  else 
from  now  on  claims  he's  a  monarch  in  these 
regions,  he  shall  be  skinned  and  melted.' 
And  they  all  cried :  '  Hoi !  Hoi ! '  or  words 
to  that  effect.  They  were  unanimous.  Kame- 
lillo  said  they  '  liked  it  good.' 

Craney  was  silent  a  while,  and  I  didn't 
say  much.  I  didn't  know  how  to  get  along 
with  monarchs,  anyway.  The  men  forward 
were  working  by  lantern,  hauling  up  stuff 
from  the  hold,  and  piling  it  on  deck  to  start 
unloading  in  the  morning. 

"I'm  going  out  of  trade,"  he  went  on. 


King  Julius  183 


"  I'm  going  into  royalty.  That's  my  retinue 
on  the  beach.  What's  more,  it's  most  of  the 
male  population,  including  nobility  and 
masses.  I'll  show  'em.  The  old  king  was  a 
bad  lot.  I'll  be  a  benevolent  monarch.  I'll 
give  'em  free  schools  and  a  constitution. 

"  Tommy,"  he  says  after  a  long  silence, 
"  you'll  be  going  back  to  San  Francisco,  and 
maybe  you'll  see  some  folks  that  are  looking 
for  me,  and  maybe  they'll  be  hostile.  Very 
good.  You  come  back  with  'em  and  you 
watch  me.  You're  an  old  friend  of  me, 
Tommy.  You're  a  man  capable  of  expand 
ing.  You  can  get  on  to  large  ideas.  You 
can  take  in  vastness.  You  come  back,  and 
I'll  make  you  heir  to  the  throne." 

But  I  didn't  hanker  for  Craney's  throne. 
The  last  I  saw  of  him  for  that  time  was 
bidding  him  good-bye  on  the  beach.  He  ap 
peared  to  have  most  of  the  public  to  carry 
up  his  cargo,  and  he  appeared  to  be  popular. 
Kamelillo  stayed  with  him  as  interpreter. 

At  Honolulu  there  came  two  men  aboard 


1 84  King  Julius 

with  a  letter  from  the  agent  in  San  Fran 
cisco,  which  agent  was  irritating  on  account 
of  slowness,  and  had  weedy-looking  hair. 
But  the  letter  said : 

"  Put  the  Good  Sister  at  service  of  bear 
ers.  They  have  a  warrant  for  Phipp."  I 
says: 

"  Warrant  for  Phipp !  What  for  ?  " 
One  of  them  was  a  sheriff  named  Breen, 
a  slow,  temperate  man,  and  the  other  a  de 
tective  named  Jessamine,  a  yellow-bearded 
one  with  light  open  eyes,  who  seemed  a  pleas 
ant  talker,  but  to  the  best  of  my  recollection 
was  one  you  might  call  obstinate.  They 
showed  me  their  papers,  and  these  appeared 
to  be  correct.  Jessamine's  papers  stated  that 
he  represented  parties  in  St.  Louis,  whose 
names  don't  count. 

"  Warrant !  "  I  says.     "  What  for?  " 

"  Why,"  says  Jessamine,  "  Phipp  isn't  his 

name,  as  you  will  see  by  the  warrant;  "  which 

was  no  particular  news  to  me.    But  I  didn't 

like  the  job  of  going  back  after  Craney.    I 


King  Julius  185 


didn't  seem  to  take  much  interest  in  parties 
in  St.  Louis,  but  it  set  me  arguing  again 
whether  he  was  a  lunatic,  or  had  a  point  of 
view.  And  so,  though  I  thought  it  might  be 
they  were  going  to  be  surprised  when  they 
came  to  Lua,  I  said  nothing  about  that,  but 
fitted  up  a  bit  in  Honolulu,  taking  my  time, 
and  set  sail  once  more  for  Lua.  We  came 
there  in  a  high  wind  on  a  rainy  morning, 
about  six  weeks  since  I'd  left  it. 

No  one  was  in  sight  on  the  beach  at  first, 
but  the  sky  clearing,  I  went  ashore  with 
Breen  and  Jessamine,  and  several  natives 
ran  out  of  the  huts  and  across  the  beach  to 
meet  us.  I  says,  "  Man,  Ship,"  and  pointed 
inland,  at  which  they  seemed  to  be  pleased 
and  set  off ;  and  we  followed  them  by  a  long 
trail  that  came  at  last  in  the  cleared  valley, 
where  were  long-strung-out  villages,  leading 
inland  to  the  open  country  this  side  of  the 
wooded  hills.  By  this  time  wre  were  a  pro 
cession.  We  knew  when  we  had  arrived,  for 
there  appeared  a  long  range  of  roofs  through 


86  King  Julius 


the  stems  of  a  palm  grove,  and  a  broad  path 
led  to  it  through  bushes  covered  with  red 
thick-scented  flowers.  It  was  King  Julius's 
palace.  The  front  of  it  was  all  one  piazza, 
maybe  two-hundred  feet  long  and  forty  deep, 
with  slim  bamboo  pillars;  and  men  seemed 
to  be  still  shingling  one  end  of  it  with  layers 
of  plantain  leaves.  But  the  king  was  out  in 
a  sort  of  square  to  one  side,  and  had  about 
fifty  warriors  with  feathers  in  their  hair, 
practising  spears  at  a  mark.  Then  he  saw 
us,  and  then  he  said  something  sharp,  and 
the  fifty  fell  into  line  behind,  with  spears 
and  shields  in  disciplined  order.  They 
marched  very  pretty,  and  came  down  on  us 
in  a  way  to  make  a  man  feel  shy.  I  says, 
"  Which  of  you  is  going  to  arrest  him,  and 
how's  he  going  to  do  it?"  Breen  says, 
"  You  have  me !  "  And  Jessamine  says : 
"  Let's  see." 

Then  the  king  halted  his  company  and 
came  on  alone,  looking  calm,  with  the  thumb 
of  one  hand  in  the  armhole  of  his  vest,  and 


King  Julius  187 


the  other  pulling  his  chin  beard.  And  Jessa 
mine  stepped  forward  and  says : 

"  J.  R.  Craney,  I  arrest  you  for  embez 
zlement."  And  the  king  looked  him  over 
calm  and  benevolent.  He  says,  "  You  don't 
mean  it !  Better  be  careful.  Why,  the  trou 
ble  is,  the  army  ain't  really  disciplined  yet. 
They'd  jab  you  full  of  holes,  when  I  wasn't 
looking,  if  they  caught  your  idea.  Better 
come  and  have  tea.  I  didn't  expect  you'd 
be  along  for  two  months  yet." 

It  appeared  he  calculated  on  three  or 
four  months,  and  my  meeting  Jessamine  at 
Honolulu  had  cut  him  short.  But  I  didn't 
see  but  he  held  the  cards.  Jessamine  might 
arrest  till  he  was  blown.  The  crew  of  the 
Good  Sister  hadn't  shipped  to  be  speared  by 
a  king's  bodyguard,  and  I  didn't  care  much 
for  parties  in  St.  Louis. 

Soon  we  were  eating  comfortably,  sit 
ting  on  the  big  piazza  around  one  of  Craney's 
black  walnut  tables.  The  palace  seemed  to 
be  fitted  and  furnished  so  far  mainly  from 


1 88  King  Julius 

the  cargo.  Each  of  us  had  two  or  three 
waiters  back  of  his  chair,  some  men,  some 
women.  The  warriors  squatted  in  line  out 
in  front  among  the  flowers.  Whenever  we 
were  through  with  a  dish,  Craney  would 
send  the  rest  of  it  down  to  the  warriors,  and 
they'd  gobble  it,  and  watch  for  more,  with 
their  eyes  shining,  but  very  quiet.  I  recol 
lect  there  was  something  that  was  like  a 
duck,  and  some  canned  tomatoes,  and  a  kind 
of  fruit  with  a  yellow  rind. 

"  There's  two  hundred  in  my  army,"  says 
Craney  sociably,  "  in  four  divisions.  This  is 
a  special  one.  Mighty  fond  of  drilling  they 
are.  Fact,  'most  everybody's  in  the  army. 
They're  softening  under  discipline,  but  some 
of  'em  are  bloodthirsty  yet." 

"  J.  R.,"  says  Jessamine,  "  I  hate  to  do 
it.  It's  a  painful  duty."  Craney  says: 
"  Just  so.  Say  no  more.  You  couldn't  be 
expected  to  know  the  law  of  this  state  touch 
ing  the  person  of  the  king.  Fact  is,  foreign 
ers  ain't  allowed  to  arrest  royalty  here.  Fact, 


King  Julius  189 


it's  a  new  law.  I  just  passed  it  the  other 
day.  You  didn't  mean  any  harm.  We'll 
say  no  more." 

Jessamine  looked  hurt.  "  Come  now,  J. 
R.,  it's  no  use.  You're  not  going  to  resist 
the  law." 

"  I'm  going  to  maintain  it,  Jessamine, 
maintain  it." 

"  I  say,  I  got  the  authority  of  the  States 
of  Missouri  and  California." 

"  I  asks  you,  what  authority  they've  got 
here?  First  place,  you  want  extradition 
papers.  You  can't  have  'em.  I  won't  give 
'em  to  you.  Trouble  with  you,  Jessamine, 
is  you're  narrow.  You're  small,  there  ain't 
any  vastness  about  you,  Jessamine." 

"  J.  R.,"  says  Jessamine,  remonstrating, 
"  this  isn't  right,  and  you  know  it." 

"  You  don't  expand,  Jessamine,"  says 
Craney.  "  You  don't  permeate.  You  ain't 
got  on  to  large  ideas." 

Craney  here  distributed  cigars,  lit  a  fat 
one  himself,  pushed  back  from  the  table, 


190  King  Julius 


crossed  his  legs,  stuck  a  thumb  in  the  arm- 
hole  of  his  plush  vest,  and  went  on  unfold 
ing  his  mind. 

"  It  ain't  the  king's  pleasure  to  leave"  this 
island,  nor  it  ain't  the  ways  of  monarchs, 
as  I  take  it,  to  apologise.  But  putting  aside 
all  that,  and  supposing  you  was  expanded 
enough  to  take  that  in,  I'm  going  on  to  state 
the  way  it  appears.  You  says,  '  J.  R.,  how'd 
you  come  to  take  the  cash  of  parties  that 
trusted  you  ? '  I  answers,  '  It  comes  from 
being  romantic.'  You  ain't  romantic,  Jes 
samine  ?  That's  too  bad.  You  don't  see  it. 
You  don't  expand  to  my  circumference. 
You  don't  permeate  my  orbit.  You  don't 
get  on  to  me.  It  was  this  way.  I  got  up 
and  looked  out  on  the  world.  I  says :  *  J.  R., 
it's  clear  you  haven't  enough  cash  for  your 
ambitions.  But  you've  got  a  opportunity. 
Throw  it  in.  Be  bold.  If  your  conscience 
squirms,  let  it  squirm.  If  it  wriggles,  let 
it  wriggle.  Take  the  risk.  Expand  to  large 
ideas.'  I  took  it.  Say,  I  made  parties  un- 


King  Julius  191 


willing  investors  in  me.  Now,  then,  there 
they  are,  as  delegated  in  you.  Here's  me, 
Julius  R.,  monarch  by  purchase  and  election 
of  the  sovereign  state  of  Lua.  You  asks, 
'  What  next  ?  '  I  says :  '  This.  I'll  pay.  I'll 
settle  the  claims  with  interest  on  investment.' 
But  I've  got  to  have  time.  Pay  with  what? 
Now  there's  the  point.  I've  been  investi 
gating  the  produce  of  this  island,  the  pearl- 
fishing,  the  coral,  the  hardwood.  The  pearl- 
fishing  is  good.  As  a  business  man,  I  tell 
you  it  can  be  done." 

Jessamine  shook  his  head.  "  I  haven't 
any  authority  to  settle  the  case.  I'm  told  to 
go  and  bring  you.  I've  got  to  do  it.  It's  a 
painful  duty." 

The  king  smoked  a  while  silently,  then 
said  something  to  his  warriors,  who  got  up 
and  marched  away  around  the  corner. 
"  Mighty,  Jessamine !  "  he  says,  "  you're 
slow.  Most  mulish  man  I  ever  saw.  Well, 
let  it  go.  You  can't  do  it.  Recollect,  at 
tempting  the  person  of  the  king  is  a  capital 


192  King  Julius 

crime.  That's  the  law  of  this  land.  It's  de 
cided  and  it  don't  change.  We'll  drop  it." 

So  nothing  more  was  said  of  the  matter, 
and  we  talked  agreeably.  Whether  Craney's 
account  of  his  motives  was  accurate  I 
couldn't  say.  It  didn't  seem  likely  he  ever 
expected  to  settle,  when  he  started,  or  he 
took  all  the  chances  that  he  never  would. 
Maybe  he  cooked  up  the  theory  to  suit 
things  as  they  stood.  Maybe  not.  I  don't 
defend  him,  and  I'm  not  clear  where  he  lied 
or  where  he  fancied.  But  it  seemed  to  me 
if  he'd  made  a  long  calculation,  his  luck 
was  standing  by  him  at  that  point. 

When  the  king  left  us  we  went  for  a 
walk  through  the  village,  talking  it  over. 
Breen  said  they'd  better  take  the  offer,  and 
I  thought  they'd  have  to,  but  Jessamine 
wasn't  satisfied.  He  says: 

"  We  haven't  the  authority.  How  do 
you  know  we  wouldn't  get  into  trouble  at 
home?  We've  got  to  take  him  back.  But 
you  see,  that  isn't  the  point.  The  point  is, 


King  Julius  193 


here's  where  we  make  a  hit.  It's  profes 
sional  with  me.  It's  reputation.  It's  the 
chance  of  a  lifetime." 

I  say:  "  But  where's  the  chance?  " 

"We'll  see.  But  J.  R.'s  been  the  one 
white  man  so  far.  Now  we're  three  to  one. 
If  he  can  usurp  a  crown,  I  don't  see  but 
what  we  can  get  up  an  insurrrection." 

The  village  was  a  long  row  of  huts 
built  of  bamboo  and  big  brown  leaves,  and 
stretched  up  and  down  the  valley.  There 
was  a  large  hut  with  two  doors  opposite  us, 
and  sitting  on  mats  in  front  was  a  fat  man 
with  little  bones  stuck  at  angles  in  his  griz 
zled  hair.  He  wore  a  pink  shirt  with  studs 
and  a  pair  of  carpet  slippers,  and  around 
his  neck  a  lot  of  glass  pendants  from  a 
chandelier,  and  he  looked  surly  and  sleepy. 
I  says: 

"  You  can  leave  me  out.  I  think  you 
ought  to  take  the  offer.  If  you  slip  up,  the 
king  '11  hang  you  for  treason.  If  he's  the 
government  here,  he's  got  a  right  to  say 


IQ4  King  Julius 

what  the  law  is.  I'm  going  back  to  the 
ship.  You  needn't  ask  me  for  backing,  for 
you  won't  get  it." 

We  stopped  beside  the  fat  man,  and  I 
asked  him  if  he  hadn't  been  one  of  the  rival 
candidates,  thinking  it  might  be  the  old  one 
with  the  chicken  bones  that  spoke  English; 
and  he  set  to  work  swearing,  so  I  knew  it 
was;  and  I  judged  from  the  style  he  swore 
in  he'd  been  intimate  one  time  with  seamen, 
and  I  judged,  too,  he  felt  dissatisfied.  He 
said  he  was  rightly  chief  of  the  island,  and 
that  man,  all  of  whose  grandfathers  were 
low  and  disgusting,  meaning  Julius  R.,  was 
living  in  his  house,  and,  moreover,  had 
given  him  only  three  pink  shirts.  Jessamine 
sat  down  by  him,  and  said  nothing,  but  list 
ened,  and  I  went  and  found  some  of  the 
beach  natives,  and  came  back  with  them  to 
the  Good  Sister. 

That  night  passed,  and  it  came  the 
morning  of  the  next  day,  and  I  heard  noth 
ing  from  them.  I  went  ashore,  but  found 


King  Julius  195 


no  one  about  the  huts  there  but  children  and 
a  few  old  women.  The  old  women  jab 
bered  at  us  excitedly. 

I  took  six  of  the  men  and  started  inland 
through  the  hot  woods,  where  the  green  and 
red  parrots'  screamed  overhead.  When  we 
came  out  to  look  up  the  valley  to  the  open 
country,  we  saw  no  signs  of  fighting,  nor 
any  one  moving  about.  Through  the  valley, 
as  we  went  up  it,  there  was  no  smoke  from 
the  huts,  no  women  bruising  nuts  and 
ground  roots  into  meal,  no  fat  man  before 
the  hut  with  two  doors  sitting  on  his  mats, 
not  a  soul  in  the  village. 

But  coming  near  the  palace  we  could 
see  all  the  red  flower  shrubs  were  trampled 
and  smashed.  Then  we  came  on  a  dead 
body  by  the  path ;  then  more  bodies,  bloody 
and  spitted  with  spears;  and  one  man,  who 
was  wounded,  lifted  himself,  and  glared, 
and  dropped  again  among  the  red  flowers. 
Through  the  palm  stems  we  saw  the  roofs 
of  the  palace,  and  the  piazza  with  the  bam- 


196  King  Julius 

boo  pillars.  The  line  of  the  bodyguard  was 
squatted  on  the  piazza,  with  their  spears  up 
right  before  them.  Everything  was  still. 

Then  we  heard  a  cry  behind  us,  and 
looked,  and  saw  Jessamine  and  Breen,  but 
no  others  with  them,  running  through  the 
village  towards  us.  They  came  up  to  us, 
and  said  they  had  been  in  the  woods  hunt 
ing  for  the  villagers  who  had  run  away,  but 
found  none.  We  sat  down  not  far  from  the 
wounded  man.  Jessamine  had  his  arm  in  a 
sling,  and  he  told  what  had  happened,  so 
far  as  he  made  it  out. 

"  It  was  the  way  I  fancied,"  he  says ;  "  J. 
R.  wasn't  so  solid  with  his  army  as  he 
thought,  except  the  bodyguard,  but  I'd  no 
idea  they'd  go  off  like  a  bunch  of  fireworks. 
The  old  fat  one  sent  messengers  around  in 
the  afternoon,  and  at  night  we  went  with 
him  over  back  of  that  hill,  and  met  a  crowd 
who  had  a  few  torches,  but  it  was  pretty 
dark,  and  I  couldn't  see  how  many  there 
were  along  the  hillside.  I  made  them  a 


King  Julius  197 


speech:  how  J.  R.  had  run  away  from  his 
land,  and  was  ruling  them  here  when  he  had 
no  right,  and  they  oughtn't  to  stand  it ;  but  I 
don't  know  that  the  fat  one  interpreted  it.  I 
guess  he  made  a  speech  of  his  own.  All 
I  know  is  they  went  off  like  gunpowder. 
Whether  all  of  them  yelled  for  battle  and 
rebellion  I  don't  know ;  some  of  them  might 
have  been  yelling  against  it.  They  all 
yelled,  and  pretty  soon  they  started  hot-foot 
across  the  country  for  the  palace,  fighting 
some  with  each  other,  so  I  gathered  they 
disagreed.  There  are  corpses  all  along  be 
tween  here  and  the  hill,  and  it  was  there  I 
caught  a  cut  in  the  arm.  Breen  and  I  agreed 
to  slide  out  of  it.  We  went  and  sat  on  the 
hillside  and  watched.  Maybe  J.  R.  had 
word  of  what  was  coming.  He  seemed  to 
be  ready  for  them.  I  judged  the  bodyguard 
met  them  just  above  here,  and  there  was  a 
grand  mix-up,  but  we  couldn't  see  well  at 
the  distance.  It  was  an  awful  noise.  And 
suddenly  it  died  out.  Not  a  sound  for  a 


198  King  Julius 


while.  By-and-by  a  gang  of  forty  or  more 
ran  by  us  a  hundred  yards  away,  and  into 
the  woods  before  we'd  decided  what  to  do; 
and  later,  after  a  long  time,  there  was  a 
sort  of  chanting  like  a  ceremony  over  here 
at  J.  R.'s  palace,  and  this  came  at  intervals 
all  night.  This  morning  we  came  and  found 
the  village  empty,  and  came  up  a  little  be 
yond  here,  till  some  one  threw  a  spear  past 
Breen's  head,  and  we  went  away  to  look  for 
the  villagers.  I  don't  know  what  J.  R.  is 
up  to.  He  appears  to  be  laying  low  with  his 
wild-cats  around  him." 

While  we  were  speaking  there  came  some 
one  past  the  bodyguards,  and  down  to  meet 
us,  and  it  was  Kamelillo.  Kamelillo  didn't 
have  much  to  say,  except  that  the  king 
wanted  to  see  us,  but  he  answered  some 
questions.  He  thought  that  in  the  attack  on 
the  palace  the  other  two  candidates  and  the 
fat  one  fell  to  quarrelling,  and  their  follow 
ers  joined,  and  it  might  be  the  first  two 
had  been  inclined  to  stand  by  the  king,  only 


King  Julius  199 


they  thought  it  was  time  to  have  some  fight 
ing.  But  they  weren't  going  to  put  up  with 
the  fat  one.  Instead  of  having  it  out  then, 
they  had  all  gone  off  to  different  corners  of 
the  island,  the  same  as  they  used  to  do,  and 
that  suddenly.  Kamelillo  didn't  know  how 
it  came  about,  and  doubted  if  the  candidates 
knew  either.  He  said  they  were  a  "  fool  lot," 
and  the  king  could  settle  them,  give  him 
time  to  hang  the  fat  one.  But  it  was  no  use 
now — "  Too  damn  quick/'  he  said.  The 
women  and  children  had  all  run  to  the  woods 
in  the  beginning.  Being  asked  about  King 
Julius,  Kamelillo  only  grunted,  and  not  hav 
ing  any  expression  of  face,  you  couldn't 
gather  much  from  that.  But  when  we  came 
to  the  piazza,  where  the  bodyguard  squatted, 
what  was  left  of  it,  with  reddened  spears, 
ghastly  to  make  you  sick,  Kamelillo  grunted 
again  and  said,  "  He  gone  die,"  and  passed 
in.  The  guard  broke  out  wailing  and  chant 
ing,  and  rocked  to  and  fro,  but  only  a  mo 
ment,  after  which  they  held  their  spears  up 


2oo  King  Julius 

stiff,  as  the  king  had  taught  them,  and  sat 
still. 

Now  we  followed  Kamelillo  to  a  great 
room,  where  it  seemed  the  king  held  au 
diences  and  gave  out  laws  and  justice.  The 
red  plush  chair  was  on  a  raised  platform  at 
the  far  end,  and  over  and  on  three  sides 
were  heavy  red  curtains,  and  glass  chande 
liers  hung  from  the  rafters  of  the  roof,  and 
a  row  of  mattresses  covered  with  carpet  was 
laid  in  front,  maybe  so  that  subjects  could 
prostrate  themselves  comfortable.  But  the 
room  was  dusky,  and  still.  It  seemed  to  be 
empty.  But  we  passed  up  it  and  stopped, 
for  on  the  carpeted  mattresses  before  the 
throne  lay  Craney,  all  alone. 

His  coat  and  vest  were  put  back,  his  shirt 
torn  open,  and  his  breastbone  split  by  a 
spear  or  hatchet,  and  it  was  clear  he  hadn't 
long  to  live. 

A  ribby  chest  he  had,  and  a  dry,  leathery 
skin.  The  blood  soaked  out  from  under  the 
cloth  he  held  there  against  it,  and  ran  down 


King  Julius  201 

the  little  gullies  between  the  ribs.  Jessa 
mine  sat  down  and  acted  nervous.  He  says : 

"  I'm  downright  sorry  for  this,  J.  R.,"  but 
Craney  didn't  seem  to  hear,  but  motioned 
with  his  hand  and  says  softly: 

"  You'd  better  clear  out." 

Jessamine  says,  "  Now,  we  can't  leave  you 
this  way." 

But  Craney  didn't  hear  and  says,  "  Call 
in  the  guard."  The  spearmen  came  filing  in, 
barefooted,  stepping  like  cats,  and  took  posi 
tion  on  each  side,  so  that  you  could  see  it 
was  according  to  discipline,  and  maybe 
they'd  done  it  every  day  when  he'd  held  a 
court  or  something.  We  slid  back,  feeling 
shy  of  the  spears,  and  J.  R.  looked  pleased, 
and  he  says: 

"  You're  narrow,  Jessamine.  You  don't 
permeate.  You  don't  expand.  You  don't 
rise  to  large — Oh,  Jessamine!  I'm  dying, 
and  I'm  sick  of  your  face.  Tommy," 
— he  says,  speaking  hoarse  and  low — 
"  you'd  better  go."  His  eyes  wandered  ab- 


202  King  Julius 


sent-minded  to  the  plush  chair  with  the  cur 
tains  and  chandeliers  and  the  spearmen 
standing  around  it,  and  down  the  long  room, 
like  he  was  taking  his  leave  of  things  he'd 
thought  of,  and  things  he'd  been  fond  of, 
and  things  he'd  hoped  for,  and  things  he'd 
meant  to  do.  He  muttered  and  talked  to 
himself :  "  I  sat  there,"  he  said,  "  and  I  did 
the  right  thing  by  the  people.  Gentlemen, 
these  black  idjits  are  friends  of  mine.  If 
you  don't  mind,  I'd  rather  you'd  go.  But 
you  can  stay,  Tommy,  if  you  want  to." 

So  I  stayed  until  he  was  gone.  When 
I  came  away  I  left  the  spearmen  chanting 
over  him. 

That  was  Julius  R.  Craney.  Why,  I 
don't  praise  him,  nor  put  blame  on  him. 
Kamelillo  said  he  was  "  old  boy  all  right," 
but  Kamelillo's  notions  of  what  was  virtu 
ous  weren't  civilised  notions.  A  man  ought 
to  be  honest.  I've  known  thieves  that  were 
singular  human.  He  was  mighty  happy 
when  he  was  a  king,  was  Julius  R. 


CHAPTER  X 
Cbe  IrtBt  proposition—  SaDlec  Conclu&eD 


IT  happened  in  the  year  '84  that  I  took 
in  sailing  orders  at  Hong-Kong  to  go 
round  to  Rangoon  for  a  cargo  of  teak  wood. 
It's  a  hard  wood  that's  used  in  shipbuilding. 
That  was  a  new  port  to  me,  and  it  wasn't 
a  port-of-call  at  all  till  the  English  took  it. 
You  go  some  thirty  miles  up  the  Rangoon 
River,  which  is  one  of  the  mouths  of  the 
Irrawaddy,  which  is  the  main  river  of  Bur- 
mah;  and  the  first  you  see  of  the  town  is 
the  Shway  Dagohn  Pagoda,  the  gilded  cone 
above  the  trees.  Rangoon  had  already  a 
good  deal  that  was  European  about  it,  hotels 
and  shops,  stone  blocks  of  buildings,  the 
custom  house,  offices  of  the  Indian  Empire, 
and  houses  of  English  residents.  The  gilded 
pagoda  looks  over  everything  from  a  hill. 
The  crowds  in  the  streets  are  Eastern, 
Chinamen,  Malays,  and  Bengalees,  and 
203 


204        The  Kiyi  Proposition 

mainly  the  Burman  of  the  Irrawaddy.  I 
was  anchored  over  against  the  timber  yards. 
I  says  to  myself : 

"Rangoon!  Pagoda!  Why,  Green 
Dragons  and  Kid  Sadler !  "  I  wondered  if 
he  was  there  to  be  asked,  "  How's  business  ? 
How's  the  dyspeptic  soul  ? "  and  whether 
he  had  an  office  maybe  near  the  custom 
house,  and.  exported  gold  leaf  and  bronze 
images  of  Buddha.  I  started  to  find  the 
temple  of  Green  Dragons,  and  followed  a 
broad  street,  leading  to  the  right,  for  nearly 
a  mile.  Then  it  grew  wooded  on  each  side. 
Gateways  with  carved  stone  posts  and  plas 
ter  griffins,  took  the  place  of  shops,  and  be 
hind  them  you  could  see  the  slanting  roofs 
of  the  monasteries,  and  their  towers,  strung 
to  the  top  with  rows  of  little  roofs.  A 
stream  of  people  moved  drowsy  in  the  road, 
monks  in  yellow  robes  with  their  right  shoul 
ders  bare,  women  with  embroidered  skirts, 
men  with  similar  skirts,  men  with  tattooed 
legs,  and  men  in  straw  hats  with  dangling 


The  Kiyi  Proposition        205 

brims.  There  were  covered  carts  looking 
like  sun-bonnets  on  wheels  and  pulled  by 
humped-necked  oxen.  There  were  little 
skylarking  children,  and  Chinamen,  and 
black-bearded  Hindoos. 

Then  I  saw  a  stone  stairway  going  up 
the  side  of  the  hill.  I  went  on,  staring  ahead 
at  the  cone  that  shone  in  the  air,  and  getting 
bewildered  to  see  so  near  by  the  quantity  of 
dancing  statues  on  the  roofs  of  the  temples 
that  crowded  the  hill,  and  those  acres  of 
tangled-up  carving.  So  I  came  to  the  foot 
of  the  stairs. 

Close  to  the  right  was  a  gateway  in  a 
white  wall,  and  on  each  side  was  a  green 
lacquer  dragon,  that  had  enamelled  goggle 
eyes  and  a  size  that  called  for  respect.  The 
gateway  led  under  a  row  of  roofs  held  up 
by  shiny  pillars.  Over  the  wall  you  could 
see  a  gilded  cone  pagoda  with  a  bell  on  top. 

It  looked  pretty  inside  of  the  gate,  with 
flowers  and  trees  and  little  white  and  gold 
buildings.  A  yellow-robed  man  sat  under 


2o6        The  Kiyi  Proposition 

a  roof  near  the  gate  with  some  children 
squatted  around.  He  wasn't  Sadler.  He 
didn't  look  as  if  an  inquiry  for  Sadler  would 
start  anything  going  in  his  mind.  There 
was  a  faint  tinkle  of  bells,  and  the  far-off 
mutter  of  a  gong. 

Anyway  there  were  green  dragons.  I 
went  in,  thinking  of  the  years  gone,  of  Fu 
Shan,  who  used  to  sit,  sucking  his  porcelain 
pipe  on  Sadler's  porch,  and  looking  down 
on  the  creek  where  the  boys  were  rowing 
with  his  countrymen,  and  looking  down  on 
Saleratus  that  was  a  pretty  unkempt  com 
munity,  and  saying,  "  Vely  good  joss  house, 
gleen  dlagon  joss  house  by  Langoon ;  "  and 
then  of  Sadler  saying :  "  Stuck-up  little  cast- 
eyed  ghost!  Speak  up,  Asia,  if  you've  got 
any  medicine  for  me." 

Farther  on  another  man  in  a  blue  robe 
sat  under  a  tree,  with  his  feet  stuck  out  in 
front.  By  the  black  clay  pipe  he  was  smok 
ing,  and  by  his  hair  that  was  red  enough  to 
keep  a  man  surprised  as  not  harmonious 


The  Kiyi  Proposition        207 

with  his  robin's-egg  blue  robe,  the  same  was 
Irish. 

He  whooped  joyful  to  see  me,  and  said 
I'd  find  Sadler  over  "  beyont  the  boss 
pagody." 

"Tommy  boy,"  he  says  anxious,  "ye 
won't  be  shtirrin'  oop  the  Kid.  He  ain't 
been  into  anything  rampageous,  nor  the 
women,  nor  the  drink,  nor  clawin'  to  do 
nothin',  since  we  coom,  and  me  gettin'  fat 
with  the  pacefulness  of  it.  Lave  him  aisy 
for  the  love  of  God!" 

In  the  cone  pagoda  there  were  people 
praying  on  the  floor,  and  it  was  ringed  with 
little  bronze  Buddhas  and  big  wooden  Bud- 
dhas,  standing,  sitting,  and  lying,  that  all 
smiled,  three  hundred  identical  smiles.  Then 
I  came  out  beyond  to  a  small  temple  on  a 
mound,  a  sort  of  pointed  roof  on  a  circle  of 
lacquer  pillars.  A  yellow-robed  man  sat 
on  the  floor,  with  right  shoulder  bare,  lean 
ing  against  a  pillar.  A  woman  stood  in 
front  of  him.  talking  fast.  Three  children 


208        The  Kiyi  Proposition 

were  playing  on  the  grass.  You  could  look 
over  the  wall,  and  see  the  shuffling  crowd 
in  the  streets,  and  those  going  up  and  down 
the  stairway  to  the  Shway  Dagohn.  The 
yellow  robe  was  smoking  a  pipe.  More 
over  he  was  Sadler. 

The  woman  stared  at  me  and  scuttled 
away,  and  I  says,  "  How's  business?  How's 
the  dyspeptic  soul?  " 

"  Business  good,"  he  says.  "  Dyspeptic's 
took  a  pill.  Sit  down,  Tommy.  Glad  to 
see  you."  Those  were  his  remarks,  and  it 
didn't  look  as  if  the  East  had  swallowed 
him,  except  that  he  was  remarkable  calm, 
and  his  head  was  shaved,  and  his  clothes 
didn't  seem  proper  on  a  white  man. 

Then  bit  by  bit,  he  unloaded  his  mind, 
which  appeared  full  of  little  things,  like  a 
junk  shop.  He  says :  "  See  that  woman  that 
left  ?  "  he  says.  "  She  has  four  children, 
all  girls,  and  she's  mad  over  it.  Around 
here,  when  a  woman's  going  to  have  a  child, 
she  generally  puts  in  a  bid  at  the  temple  for 


The  Kiyi  Proposition        209 

a  boy.  Queer,  ain't  it !  Well,  that  one  has 
had  four  girls.  Every  time  she  comes 
around  afterwards  and  lays  down  the  law. 
Sometimes  she  brings  her  man,  and  they 
both  lay  down  the  law.  Well,  it's  lively! 
That  one  on  the  left,"  he  says,  pointing  to 
the  children,  "  that's  Nan,  proper  name  An- 
anda.  She's  one  of  their  four.  She's  got 
the  nerve  of  a  horsefly !  The  chunky  one  in 
the  middle,  his  name's  Sokai,  but  I  call  him 
Soaker  for  short.  His  folks  work  in  the 
rice  fields.  The  littlest  one's  Kishatriya, 
which  I  call  him  Kiyi  on  account  of  his  sol- 
emnness.  Seemed  to  me  it  ought  to  cheer 
things  up,  to  call  him  Kiyi.  His  folks  died 
of  cholera.  He  keeps  meditatin'  all  the 
time. 

"  Business/'  he  says.  "  Oh !  Fu  Shan— 
LumShan.  Why.  Yes!  Saleratus!"  He 
seemed  to  have  trouble  getting  his  mind  to 
those  long-past  things.  I  says,  "  Fu  Shan 
introduced  you  to  his  brother,  didn't  he?" 

"  Why,  Fu  Shan  gave  me  a  letter.     You 


210        The  Kiyi  Proposition 

remember  that?  Well,  as  I  recollect,  it 
turned  out  this  way.  Lum  Shan,  he  just 
says,  '  All  light,'  and  lit  out.  All  there  was 
to  it.  He  left  me  kind  of  surprised.  I 
thought,  *  There  must  be  some  poison 
around  here/  but  there  wasn't.  But  it  don't 
suit  him.  Then  I  looked  up  the  title  to  the 
temple.  Old  Lo  Tsin  had  got  it  recorded 
in  the  English  courts  in  '53,  when  they  an 
nexed  the  town,  and  the  title  appeared  to 
be  good.  I  investigated  some  more.  There 
were  twenty  yellow  monks  teaching  school 
here.  There's  forty  now.  I  got  'em  in. 
But  they  appeared  to  think  Lum  Shan,  or 
me,  was  a  sort  financial  manager,  that  man 
aged  affairs  mysterious.  They  said,  '  Why 
should  the  holy  be  troubled?  All  things  are 
one.'  I  thought  they  were  pretty  near  right 
there,  but  I  didn't  see  any  advantage  in  it. 
I  thought  it  was  an  all-round  discouragin' 
statement.  It  was  the  oneness  of  things  that 
was  tiresome.  I  strolled  around  and 
thought  it  over.  Then  I  says:  'Lend  me 


The  Kiyi  Proposition        2 1 1 

one  of  them  robes.'  *  But,'  says  they,  '  it 
is  the  garment  of  the  phongyee.  You  are 
not  a  holy  one.'  'Think  not?'  I  says. 
'  Right  again.  Any  kind  of  a  blanket  will 
do.' 

"  They  gave  me  a  blue  cotton  sheet,  and 
recommended  I  go  and  sit  three  or  four 
weeks  in  the  pagoda,  and  consider  that  '  All 
things  are  one.'  I  says,  '  All  right,'  I 
squatted  every  day  before  them  bronze  or 
wooden  individuals,  and  remarked  to  each 
one  some  fifty  times  a  day,  '  All  things  are 
one,'  till  it  seemed  to  me  every  one  of  'em 
was  thinking  that  identical  thing  too,  and 
every  one  of  'em  had  the  same  identical  and 
balmy  smile  over  it.  '  Take  it  on  the  whole,' 
I  says,  *  that's  a  singular  coincidence,  ain't 
it  ?  '  After  three  or  four  weeks  I  says,  '  All 
things  are  one,'  and  felt  about  it  the  same 
way  as  they  looked.  There  was  no  getting 
away  from  the  amiableness  of  'em.  Then 
I  says :  '  How's  this  ?  Is  monotony  a  bene 
fit?  Is  enterprise  a  mistake?  Is  the  Cau- 


212        The  Kiyi  Proposition 

casian  followin'  up  a  blind  trail?  What's 
up  ?  '  I  says. 

"  Then  I  went  out  and  strolled  around. 
A  lot  of  yellow  monks  live  over  the  west 
wall,  and  pass  the  time,  meditatin'  on  selec 
ted  subjects  and  teachin'  school.  Monks, 
now,  are  the  mildest  lot  of  old  ladies  out. 
The  institution  furnishes  two  meals  a  day, 
and  they  all  go  into  the  city  mornings  with 
begging  bowls  to  give  people  a  chance  to 
acquire  merit  by  charity.  Then  they  come 
back  and  give  away  what  they've  collected 
to  poverty  that's  collected  at  the  gate.  That 
way  they  acquire  merit  for  themselves.  Eco 
nomical,  ain't  it?  Then  I  saw  how  old  Lo 
Tsin  felt  He  admired  the  economy  of  it 
anyway.  I  guess  he  admired  it  all  around. 
He  stood  pat  by  his  own  temple,  and  then 
got  himself  buried  there.  The  thing  give 
him  a  soft  spot  on  the  head. 

"  Now,  they  think  I'm  a  sort  of  an  ab 
bot,  and  folks  come  in  from  everywhere 
to  show  me  a  cut  finger  and  discuss  their 


The  Kiyi  Proposition        2 1  3 

sinfulness,  and  if  Xarvs  mother  ain't  mad 
because  the  temple  keeps  puttin'  her  off  with 
girls,  then  Kiyi's  got  the  fever  and  chills,  or 
somethin'  else  is  goin'  on.  Always  some 
thing  to  worry  about.  But  a  man  can  go 
over  to  the  Pagoda,  and  tell  'em  '  All  things 
are  one/  and  get  three  hundred  identical 
opinions  to  agree  with.  Cheers  you  up  re 
markable.  Look  at  Kiyi !  Ain't  he  great  ?  " 
Sadler  went  on  in  this  way  unloading 
his  mind  of  odds  and  ends.  Down  on  the 
slope  below  Nan  was  thumping  Soaker  on 
the  back  to  make  him  mind  her.  She  wore 
a  striped  cloth  and  a  string  of  beads  for  her 
clothes.  Laying  down  the  law  appeared  to 
run  in  her  family.  Soaker  took  his  thump 
ing  in  a  way  that  I  judged  it  was  a  custom 
between  them.  Little  Kiyi  crept  up  the  steps 
and  squatted  on  the  stone  floor  in  front  of 
us.  He  had  a  big  head,  and  arms  and  legs 
like  dry  reeds.  He  sat,  solemn  and  still, 
while  Sadler  was  unloading  his  mind,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  Kiyi  was  mysterious, 


214       The  Kiyi  Proposition 

same  as  the  bronze  Buddhas  in  the  cone 
pagoda. 

"He's  got  it,"  says  Sadler,  speaking 
husky.  "  Worse'n  I  did." 

"Got  what?"  I  says. 

Sadler's  face  had  grown  tired,  sort  of 
heavy  and  worn,  while  he  was  looking  down 
at  Kiyi.  "  Born  with  it.  He  got  injected 
with  the  extract  of  misery  beforehand,"  he 
says.  "  He  was  born  wishing  he  wasn't.  I 
know  what  it  is,  but  he  don't  know  what 
it  is,  Kiyi  don't.  He  don't  know  what's  the 
matter.  First  thing  he  saw  was  the  cholera." 

All  about  the  gardens  there  was  a  tinkle 
of  bells  made  by  the  wind  blowing  them, 
and  a  gong  kept  muttering  somewhere.  Kiyi 
rolled  over  on  the  edge  of  Sadler's  yellow 
robe,  curled  up,  and  shut  his  eyes,  and  went 
to  sleep.  He  had  no  clothes  but  a  green  loin 
cloth.  His  hair  was  done  up  in  a  topknot. 
Then  I  looked  at  Sadler,  and  then  at  Kiyi, 
and  then  I  thought  he  was  the  littlest  and 
saddest  thing  in  Asia. 


The  Kiyi  Proposition        215 

When  I  was  about  ready  to  sail,  I  took 
the  Shway  Dagohn  road  again,  with  Stevey 
Todd,  thinking  Sadler  might  have  messages 
to  send.  It  was  a  windy  afternoon.  The 
hot  dust  was  blowing  in  the  road.  The  yel 
low  old  man  sat  inside  the  gate  alone.  There 
were  no  children  under  the  trees.  He  came 
out  of  his  dream,  and  motioned  to  stop 
us,  and  mumbled  something  about  "  Tha- 
Thana-Peing,"  which  was  the  Kid's  title 
in  that  neighbourhood.  Whether  it  meant 
"  His  Solemn  High  Mightiness,"  or  meant 
"  The  Man  That  Pays  the  Bills,"  I  didn't 
know.  "  No  go,  no  go,"  mumbles  the  yel 
low  old  man. 

"  Ain't  you  keeping  school  to-day  ?  "  I 
says. 

"  Dead,"  mumbles  the  yellow  old  man. 

"Who?  Not  Sadler!  No.  Tha- 
Thana!" 

"  Kishhatriya,"  he  mumbles,  "  Kiyi,"  and 
he  fell  back  into  his  absent-mindedness.  So 
we  went  past  him  to  the  little  temple  behind 


21 6       The  Kiyi  Proposition 

the  gilded  cone.  Most  of  the  monks  were 
sitting  around  it  on  the  grass,  and  Irish, 
with  his  hair  remarkable  wild,  among  them, 
and  against  a  pillar  sat  Sadler,  bent  over 
Kiyi's  body  that  was  on  his  knees.  One  of 
the  yellow  robes  recited  a  monotonous  chant. 
Maybe  it  was  a  funeral  service,  or  maybe 
they  were  going  over  their  law  and  gospels 
for  the  benefit  of  Sadler.  He  looked  up, 
and  the  reciter  stopped,  and  it  was  all  quiet. 
Sadler  says: 

"  See  here,  boys,  what's  the  use?  They 
can't  make  an  Oriental  of  me.  This  ain't 
right,  Tommy.  Now,  is  it?  No,  it  ain't 
right."  He  looked  old  and  weighted  down. 
He  looked  as  old  as  a  pyramid.  "  See 
here,"  he  says,  "  Tommy,  what's  the  idea  of 
this?" 

Then  we  backed  out  of  that  assembly. 
Seemed  to  me  it  was  a  proposition  a  man 
might,  as  well  dodge.  Only,  I  recollect  how 
little  Kiyi  looked  like  a  wisp  of  dry  hay,  and 
Sadler  uncommon  large,  with  his  fists  on  the 


The  Kiyi  Proposition        217 

stone  floor  on  either  side,  and  his  head  hung 
over  Kiyi,  and  how  the  yellow  men  squatted 
and  said  nothing. 

Maybe  Sadler  is  studying  the  "  Kiyi 
Proposition,"  still,  to  find  out  how  the  three 
hundred  bronze  Buddhas  can  give  three 
hundred  cheerful  agreements  to  the  state 
ment  that  "  All  things  are  one,"  when,  on 
the  contrary,  some  things  have  Kiyi  luck 
and  some  don't.  I  don't  know.  The  rights 
and  wrongs  of  this  world  always  seemed 
to  me  pretty  complicated.  There  was  Julius 
R.  that  was  slippery  and  ambitious;  there 
was  Sadler  that  had  a  worm  in  his  soul; 
there  was  Clyde  that  kept  one  conscience 
for  argument,  and  another  for  the  trade; 
there  was  Tommy  Buckingham  who  was 
getting  older  and  troubled  about  the  inten 
tions  of  things.  And  yet  again  there  was  folks 
like  Kreps  and  Stevey  Todd,  say,  mild  and 
warm  people,  and  a  bit  simple,  each  in  his 
way,  and  yet  they  always  kept  themselves 
entertained  somehow.  "  All  things  are 


2i 8        The  Kiyi  Proposition 

one,"  are  they?  I  couldn't  see  it  either,  no 
more  than  Sadler.  For  this  is  the  Kiyi 
Proposition.  You  says :  "  Here's  a  bad  job. 
Who  did  it?"  I  says:  "I  don't  know." 
You  says :  "  Well,  who  pays  f or  it  ?  "  I 
says:  "Ain't  any  doubt  about  that.  It's 
Kiyi." 

It  was  quite  a  parcel  of  years  I  sailed 
the  Pacific,  ten  years,  or  thereabout,  alto 
gether.  The  time  I  saw  Sadler  behind  the 
Green  Dragons  was  my  last  cruise  there.  I 
says  to  myself: 

"  Tommy,  you  ain't  a  '  bonny  sailor  boy ' 
any  more.  Why  don't  you  sail  your  own 
ship  ?  Haven't  you  got  a  bank  in  the  West 
Indies  ?  Why  don't  you  liquidate  on  Clyde  ? 
Why  don't  you  quit  your  foolishness  ?  "  and 
when  Stevey  Todd  and  I  got  back  to  San 
Francisco,  I  left  Shan  Brothers  and  the 
Good  Sister  for  good,  and  we  came  east  by 
railroad  to  New  Orleans. 


CHAPTER  XI 

XTbe  ttosaae  ot  tbe  4<  VooDoo  "— narrative 
Continues 

MONSON  was  the  man's  name  that  I 
came  to  deal  with  in  New  Orleans. 
He  had  a  schooner  named  the  Voodoo,  a 
coast  cruiser  that  never  went  further  to  sea 
than  the  Windwards.  There  was  another 
white  man  on  the  crew,  but  the  rest  were 
negroes.  Monson  was  billed  already  for 
Martinique  and  Trinidad,  and  that  was  why 
I  dealt  with  him,  and  got  him  cheap  for  a 
short  trip  beyond  Tobago. 

Stevey  Todd  set  out  for  the  north  to 
find  some  relatives  he  thought  he  had,  but 
found  none  to  his  mind,  and  concluded  he 
was  an  orphan.  But  he  found  a  restaurant 
to  his  mind  in  South  Street  in  New  York, 
and  there  he  settled  himself  and  waited  for 
me  to  come  along.  It's  a  place  where  sea 
men  generally  turn  up  sooner  or  later,  and 
219 


22O    Voyage  of  the  "Voodoo" 

I  told  him  I  would  come  there.  Monson 
and  I  set  sail  the  third  of  September  in  the 
year  '85. 

Now,  Monson  was  a  man  of  great  size 
and  long  yellowish  hair  and  beard,  and  shy, 
innocent-looking  eyes.  It  always  gave  me 
a  start  to  look  up  six  feet  of  legs  and  chest, 
and  end  in  an  expression  of  face  which 
seemed  about  to  remark  that  the  world  was 
a  strange  place,  and  might  be  wicked.  The 
other  white  man  and  the  negroes  were  a  bad 
lot,  and  given  to  viciousness,  but  Monson 
ruled  them  with  a  heavy  fist.  He  hadn't 
been  three  hours  away  from  the  river  before 
he  was  banging  a  negro  with  a  board,  the 
others  looking  on  and  grinning.  He  was 
spanking  him,  in  a  way.  He  ran  to  me  with 
tears  in  his  eyes.  "  I'll  throw  that  nigger 
overboard !  "  he  shouted,  dancing  about,  and 
shortly  after  he  appeared  to  have  forgotten 
the  matter.  I  thought  I  should  get  along 
with  him,  but  I  thought  I'd  have  to  keep  cool 
and  calm  in  dealing  with  him.  He  was 


Voyage  of  the  "Voodoo"     221 

such  a  man  as  it  seemed  better  to  be  ac 
quainted  with  in  a  big  open  space  where 
there  was  room  for  him  to  explode.  He  was 
apt  to  be  either  gay  or  outrageous,  and  that 
about  any  little  thing.  He  was  simple  and 
furious  and  very  hearty,  and  that  all  made 
him  good  company.  The  negroes  looked 
murderous,  and  the  other  white  man  shifty 
and  dirty,  but  he  was  a  competent  sea 
man. 

Three  weeks  later  we  passed  Tobago 
and  were  looking  for  Clyde's  little  island. 
We  dropped  anchor  there  one  evening  about 
eight  o'clock.  The  moon  was  high  and  the 
sea  bright.  It  was  sixteen  years  since  I'd 
seen  that  shore  last,  the  night  I  rowed  old 
Clyde  up  the  inlet,  and  we  buried  his  canvas 
bags.  It  was  hard  won  enough  by  the  old 
man,  that  money,  with  twenty  years'  dodg 
ing  South  American  customs.  We'd  buried 
it  in  the  middle  of  a  triangle  of  three  trees. 
I  remembered  how  black  the  sea  had  been, 
and  rough  off  shore.  I  remembered  the 


222     Voyage  of  the  "Voodoo" 

black  cruiser  with  its  pennon  of  smoke.  The 
inlet  had  been  reedy,  and  the  water  there 
quiet,  and  the  soil  we  dug  in  punky  and 
wet. 

"  I  sat  in  the  stern  of  the  dingey  now  and 
let  Monson  row,  which  he  did  powerfully. 
His  forearm  was  like  a  log  of  wood,  the 
muscles  coming  out  of  it  in  knots.  I  was 
glad  enough  there  was  no  danger  to  sea 
ward,  and  wished  I  could  carry  Clyde's 
money  away  in  a  check,  instead  of  the  meal 
bags  we  had  in  the  dingey. 

We  rowed  along  and  came  to  the  inlet. 
There  was  a  lot  of  marsh  grass  and  deep- 
growing  reeds,  and  clear  water  between  that 
stretched  away  inland.  It  made  a  straight 
line  between  the  water  reeds  leading  up  to  a 
triangle  of  three  trees.  There  was  a  little 
white  house  in  the  middle  of  the  triangle, 
with  two  lit  windows. 

I  says :  "  Monson !  Somebody's  squat 
ted  on  it!" 

"What!"  he  says. 


Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo"  223 

Somebody  was  singing  in  the  house. 
Monson  looked  around  from  his  rowing, 
and  found  it  very  funny  to  his  mind,  for  he 
laughed  with  a  roar,  and  the  singing  stopped 
short. 

"  Turn  into  the  reeds !  "  I  says,  and  we 
crouched  there  in  the  boat. 

"  It's  just  where  the  house  is,"  I  says, 
"  or  it  was.  There  wasn't  any  house  then." 

Monson  shook  with  laughter  though  he 
kept  it  quiet,  and  I  don't  know  what  pleased 
him.  It  would  have  pleased  me  then  to  see 
him  dead,  I  was  that  savage  for  the  people 
in  the  house.  One  spot  on  a  mean  little 
island,  and  they'd  squatted  on  it!  Yet  it 
was  plain  enough,  for  the  inlet  led  up  to  the 
three  trees,  which  seemed  to  invite  a  man 
to  do  there  whatever  he  had  planned  to 
do. 

"  Stuff  'em  up  their  chimney,"  says  Mon 
son.  "Tip  the  hut  into  the  creek.  That 
joke's  on  them,  ain't  it?" 

I  didn't  see  how  the  joke  was  on  them. 


224     Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  " 

"  Why,  I  never  knew  an  Injy  islander 
to  dig  a  cellar,"  he  says :  "  They  lie  on  the 
ground  and  get  ague.  Course,  they  might 
dig  a  hole." 

The  door  of  the  little  house  was  closed, 
when  we  came  soft  along  the  muddy  shore 
and  crept  up  to  the  window.  There  were 
five  men  inside,  around  a  table,  leaning  for 
ward,  whispering  together  and  drinking 
aguardiente.  That's  what  Kid  Sadler  on  the 
Hebe  Maitland  used  to  call  "  affectionate 
water."  They  were  small  men,  but  fierce- 
looking  and  black-eyed,  and  they  appeared 
as  if  they  were  talking  state  secrets,  or  each 
explaining  his  special  brand  of  crime.  Mon- 
son  roared  out  and  struck  the  door  with  his 
fist,  and  they  disappeared.  Three  of  them 
went  under  the  table. 

Monson  had  to  bend  his  head  to  enter, 
and  his  shaggy  hair  pressed  along  the  ceil 
ing.  He  pulled  some  by  their  legs  from 
under  the  table,  and  one  from  a  bench  in  a 
dark  corner  by  the  hair,  whom  he  left  sud- 


Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  "     225 

denly,  for  it  was  a  woman,  and  the  two 
others  he  hauled  from  a  closet. 

"Bring  us  some  more!"  he  shouted  in 
Spanish,  laughing  uproariously.  "  Aguar 
diente  !  Hoorah !  " 

I  don't  know,  or  forget,  how  he  quieted 
them,  but  pretty  soon  we  were  seven  men 
about  the  table,  and  the  woman  was  serving 
us  with  "  affectionate  water."  One  of  them, 
with  the  woman,  was  owner  of  the  house, 
and  the  others,  it  seemed,  lived  across  the 
island.  They  had  heard  Monson's  laugh, 
and  afterward,  hearing  and  seeing  nothing 
more,  they'd  taken  it  to  be  ghosts  and  were 
afraid.  They  were  fierce-looking  little  men, 
but  pleasant  enough  and  simple-minded. 
"  Doubtless,"  they  said,  "  the  senores  were 
distinguished  persons,  who  had  come  on  a 
ship  and  would  buy  tobacco."  We  arranged 
that  the  four,  who  lived  across  the  island, 
should  come  back  in  the  morning  with  their 
tobacco.  So  the  four  went  away  affection 
ate  with  aguardiente,  and  we  were  left  alone 


226     Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  " 

with  the  fifth.  His  name  was  Pedronez 
and  his  wife's  Lucina.  Then  I  asked  how 
long  they'd  lived  there. 

"  One  year,  six  months/1  he  says,  count 
ing  on  his  fingers. 

"Build  the  house?" 

"  Si,  seiior.  A  noble  house !  A  mir 
acle!" 

"Ever  dig  a  hole  here?" 

"A  hole!  But  why  a  hole?  In  the 
ground  of  the  noble  house!  Ah,  no!  By 
no  means ! " 

Monson  roared  again,  to  the  fright  of 
Pedronez  and  Lucina,  who  flattened  herself 
against  the  wall.  He  went  out  and  brought 
in  the  spade,  and  the  bags.  I  guarded  the 
door,  and  Monson  dug  where  I  pointed  in 
the  hard  trodden  earth  of  the  floor.  Pe 
dronez  and  Lucina  backed  into  corners  and 
chattered  crazy.  They  seemed  to  think  the 
hole  was  for  them,  and  Monson  meant  to 
bury  them  in  it,  which  had  a$  reasonable 
a  look  as  anything. 


Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  "     227 

Clyde's  money  was  there  still,  lying  no 
more  than  two  feet  from  where  Pedronezand 
Lucina  had  walked  over  it  eighteen  months, 
grubbing  out  a  poor  living.  The  brown 
bags  were  all  rotted  away  and  the  coin  was 
sticky  with  clay.  I  laid  a  handful  on  the 
table,  and  told  Pedronez  to  buy  the  tobacco 
of  the  others  in  the  morning,  but  I  didn't 
suppose  he  would.  It  seemed  a  hard  sort 
of  joke  played  by  luck  on  the  little  Wind 
ward  Islander,  Clyde's  money  lying  there 
so  long,  twenty-four  inches  from  the  soles 
of  his  feet.  I  remember  how  Pedronez 
clutched  his  throat  and  shrieked  after  us  into 
the  night.  He  had  shiny  black  eyes  and 
skin  wrinkled  about  the  mouth,  and  Lucina 
was  draggled-looking.  When  we  were  out 
of  the  inlet  we  could  hear  him  yelling,  and 
I  had  an  idea  he  and  Lucina  took  to  fight 
ing  to  ease  up  their  minds. 

We  came  under  the  dark  of  the  ship's 
side.  One  of  the  negroes  leaned  over  above 
us,  and  Monson  told  him  to  turn  in,  so  short 


228     Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  " 

that  he  scuttled  away  with  a  grunt.  We 
heaved  the  stuff  aboard,  and  took  it  below, 
and  stowed  the  whole  four  meal  bags  under 
my  bunk.  We  got  up  sail  before  daybreak, 
and  slipped  away  while  the  stars  were  still 
shining. 

Now,  I  took  Monson  to  be  a  simple 
man,  though  sudden  in  action,  and  a  man 
with  an  open  mind,  and  sure  to  blow  up  with 
anything  it  was  charged  with,  and  in  that 
way  safe,  as  not  having  the  gifts  to  de 
ceive.  I  don't  say  the  estimate  was  all  gone 
wrong,  but  I'd  say  a  man  may  act  so  simple 
as  to  take  in  a  cleverer  man  than  me.  He 
came  to  me  the  next  day  and  took  me  down 
below,  acting  mysterious,  and  he  put  on  an 
expression  that  was  like  a  full  moon  trying 
to  look  like  a  horse  trader,  which  wasn't  a 
success.  Then  he  jerked  his  beard,  and 
looked  embarrassed. 

"  Why,"  he  says,  "  it's  this  way.  I  think 
I'll  have  half  that  pile,  don't  you  see?" 

I  says:  "What?" 


Voyage  of  the  "Voodoo"     229 

I  felt  like  an  empty  meal  bag  with  sur 
prise.  Then  I  says,  "  Of  course  I  was  mean 
ing  to  make  you  a  present,  Captain," 

"  No,"  he  says.  "  That's  not  it.  It's  this 
way.  The  niggers  is  so  tricky,  they'd  drop 
you  overboard,  tied  to  a  chunk  of  iron,  if 
I  told  'em  they  might,  don't  you  see?  And 
if  I  don't  tell  them  they  might,  seems  as  if 
I  ought  to  have  half.  Because,"  he  says, 
"  they'd  love  to  do  it,  because  they're  that 
way,  those  niggers,  and  it  seems  that  way, 
as  if  I'd  ought  to  have  half,  don't  it?  " 

"Why  don't  you  take  it  all?"  I  says, 
sarcastic  and  mad. 

"Why?"  he  says,  looking  like  a  full 
moon  that  was  shocked.  "  No !  That 
wouldn't  be  fair,  don't  you  see?  " 

I  kept  still  a  while,  and  then  I  thought 
maybe  there' d  be  a  way  or  two  out,  and 
I  spoke  mild. 

"  There's  some  reason  in  it,  when  you  put 
it  that  way." 

"  That's  right,"  he  says,  and  acted  joyful 


230     Voyage  of  the  "Voodoo" 

and  free.  "  It's  that  way  " ;  and  he  went 
above,  and  I  heard  him  banging  the  negroes, 
likely  for  the  wickedness  they  were  capable 
of.  I  sat  on  my  bunk  and  wondered  why 
a  man  like  me  was  always  having  trouble. 

Then  I  took  a  lantern  and  went  explor 
ing  down  in  the  hold  of  the  ship,  which  was 
pretty  much  empty  of  cargo,  and  foul,  and 
smelt  as  if  things  had  rotted  there  a  hundred 
years.  There  were  barrels  and  boxes  and 
old  canvas,  and  heaps  of  scrap  iron,  and 
some  lead  pipe,  and  coils  of  bad  rope.  Af 
terward  I  came  on  deck,  and  had  supper  and 
talked  with  Monson.  He  kept  nudging  me 
now  and  then,  and  saying,  "  It's  that  way ;  " 
and  me  answering,  "  There's  reason  in  it, 
when  it's  put  that  way." 

About  nine  o'clock  I  went  below.  By 
ten  Monson  and  all  the  negroes  were  asleep, 
except  two  with  the  other  white  man  on 
watch.  I  waited  an  hour,  and  then  took  a 
saw  and  a  lantern,  and  crept  from  the  cabin 
down  the  ladder  to  the  hold.  The  sea  was 


Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  "     231 

easy,  though  moving  some,  and  slapping  the 
ship's  sides  and  the  hold  was  full  of  loud 
echoes,  smelling  bad,  and  very  black  beyond 
the  space  of  lantern  light,  a  slimy  cold  place, 
and  full  of  sudden  noises.  I  worked  till  far 
in  the  morning,  sawing  lead  pipe  into  thin 
sections  of  maybe  an  eighth  of  an  inch  thick, 
and  thinking  about  Monson  and  whether  he 
was  deep  or  not.  I  thought  he  was  right 
about  the  negroes,  but  I  thought  Monson 
wasn't  deep,  but  simple  by  nature.  It  was 
the  same  as  when  one  small  boy  says  to 
another,  "  You  give  me  your  jackknife  and 
I  won't  tell  anybody  to  lick  you."  That 
gives  him  a  sense  of  good  morals  that's  com 
fortable  inside  him. 

I  carried  up  maybe  thirty  pounds  of  lead 
pipe  in  eighth-inch  sections,  and  emptied  out 
two  of  the  bags,  and  shovelled  in  the  lead 
pipe.  I  put  in  enough  sticky  coin  on  top  to 
cover  it  well,  and  the  rest  I  put  some  in 
the  other  two  bags,  but  most  in  a  leather 
satchel  under  some  clothes.  Then  I  tied  up 


232     Voyage  of  the  "Voodoo" 

the  bags  and  shoved  them  under  the  bunk, 
with  the  lead  pipe  ones  in  front.  Eighth 
inch  sections  of  lead  pipe  aren't  so  different 
from  gold  coin,  so  long  as  they're  in  a  meal 
bag  with  the  proper  deceptiveness  on  top. 
Then  I  turned  in  and  went  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  I  went  to  Monson  and 
said,  as  glum  as  I  could,  that  I  guessed  he'd 
do  as  he  liked,  and  as  to  the  negroes  drop 
ping  me  overboard  he  was  probably  right. 
Then  he  acted  shy  and  timid.  He  followed 
me  back  to  my  cabin,  and  stood  around  like 
he  was  part  ashamed  and  part  confused, 
kicking  his  heels  together  nervous,  and 
smoothing  his  hair. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  you  see,  it's  this  way. 
I  think  I'll  take  'em  now." 

Then  he  fished  out  the  two  front  bags, 
opened  them,  squinted  in,  tied  them  up,  and 
walked  off.  I  sort  of  gaped  after  him,  and 
sat  down  on  my  bunk,  and  wondered  why 
a  man  like  me  should  have  that  kind  of 
trouble,  and  how  soon  Monson  would  take 


Voyage  of  the  "Voodoo"     233 

to  fooling  with  his  bags,  and  find  out  he 
owned  so  much  lead  pipe.  But  I  heard  him 
banging  one  of  the  negroes,  and  judged  he 
was  cheerful  yet.  I  went  up  on  deck  and  lay 
down  on  some  cordage.  Monson  left  the 
deck  soon  after. 

Fd  calculated  on  the  bags  staying  under 
my  bunk  till  we  came  to  New  Orleans,  think 
ing  to  pass  off  the  two  that  were  doctored 
on  Monson  in  a  hurry,  and  then  to  get  out 
of  reach  hot-footed.  I  calculated  now  that, 
as  soon  as  he  found  his  bags  had  been  doc 
tored,  he'd  mention  it  candid  and  loud,  and 
meanwhile  I  might  as  well  get  my  gun  in 
working  shape  for  trouble.  Maybe  I  might 
make  a  bargain  with  the  shifty-looking 
white  man,  and  organize  an  argument  as 
to  which  should  be  dropped  overboard, 
Monson  or  me.  But  I  hadn't  got  to  the 
point,  when  Monson  came  lounging  up  the 
gangway,  still  acting  apologetic.  I  judged 
maybe  he'd  stowed  away  his  bags  without 
digging  into  diem.  I  says : 


2 34    Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  " 

"  Let  bygones  be,  Captain,"  and  he  says, 
"  That's  right !  It's  that  way.'1 

It  was  a  remarkable  thing  how  friendly 
and  kind  we  got,  hoping  there  was  no  hard 
feeling. 

That  day  the  wind  rose  to  a  gale  and 
the  sea  went  wild.  It  kept  Monson  on  deck 
night  and  day  for  four  days.  It  kept  us  in 
a  boiling  pot,  and  on  the  fifth  we  entered 
the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  Then  Monson 
went  down  to  sleep,  and  he  hadn't  waked 
when  we  anchored  off  the  levee  at  New  Or 
leans,  which  was  six  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
By  eight  I  was  on  a  train  going  north,  with 
a  new  trunk  in  the  baggage  car. 

I've  never  happened  to  see  Monson  since. 
I  guess  he  was  contented.  When  I  opened 
the  bags,  one  of  them  was  mainly  full  of 
eighth-inch  sections  of  lead  pipe. 

Maybe  he'd  heard  me  go  down  to  the 
hold  in  the  first  place,  but  probably  he  found 
first  his  lead  pipe  at  the  time  he  left  me  on 
the  deck,  and  then  he'd  changed  things  a  bit 


Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  "     235 

more  to  his  ideas  of  what  was  right,  bear 
ing  in  mind  the  natural  wickedness  of  the 
negroes.  He  didn't  appear  to  have  noticed 
that  some  of  the  stuff  was  stowed  in  my 
leather  satchel,  but  he  got  nearly  a  third  of 
Clyde's  savings. 

I  came  to  New  York  and  I  walked  along 
South  Street,  thinking  of  the  day,  twenty 
years  back,  when  I  first  walked  along  South 
Street,  cocky  and  green.  Then  I  came  to 
ward  the  slip  where  the  Hebe  Maitland  had 
lain  that  day,  and  where  I'd  looked  at  her 
and  said,  "  Now,  there's  a  ship."  I  thought 
of  Clyde  and  that  odd  talk  in  the  cabin  of 
the  Hebe  Maitland,  where  all  my  deep-sea 
goings  began.  And  I  looked  up  and  I  says, 
"  Now,  there's  a  ship!" 

The  prow  of  her  came  up  to  the  side 
walk,  and  the  bowsprit  stretched  over  the 
street,  pointing  at  a  house  on  the  other  side 
that  was  a  restaurant  by  its  sign.  The^n- 
nalee  was  the  ship's  name  in  gilt  lettering, 
and  the  clean  lines  of  her  and  her  way  of 


236     Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  " 

lying  in  the  water  would  give  you  joy. 
I  walked  alongside  her  on  the  dock,  and  I 
went  across  the  street  to  look  at  her  that 
way,  and  stood  in  front  of  the  restaurant. 
And  there  I  sniffed  around  a  bit,  and  there 
I  smelt  hot  waffles.  '  It's  a  tasty  smell," 
I  says.  "  Smells  like  Stevey  Todd,"  and  I 
went  into  the  restaurant,  and  there  was 
Stevey  Todd.  "  Stevey,"  I  says,  "  if  you'll 
give  me  some  hot  waffles  and  honey,  I'll 
buy  that  ship  out  there  if  she's  buyable." 
And  Stevey  Todd  gave  me  hot  waffles  and 
honey,  and  I  bought  the  Annalee. 

It  might  be  thought,  and  some  would 
say  so,  that  the  trouble  I  had  with  Monson 
came  of  Clyde's  money  being  unclean,  as 
not  got  honestly,  but  through  dodging  South 
American  customs,  and  I'm  free  to  admit 
it  was  sticky  when  I  dug  it  up.  But  it's 
never  acted  other  than  respectable  since  that 
time.  I  never  agreed  with  Clyde  in  argu 
ment,  more  than  did  Stevey  Todd.  A  man 
falls  in  with  various  folks  by  sea  and  land, 


Voyage  of  the  "  Voodoo  "     237 

and  he  finds  many  that  are  made  up  of  ill- 
fitting  parts.  Clyde  was  an  odd  man  and  a 
bold  one,  though  old  and  dry.  Monson  I 
took  for  a  loud  and  joyful  one,  simple  and 
open  in  his  mind,  and  violent  in  his  habits 
and  free  of  language,  and  yet  he  acted  to 
me  both  secret  and  moderate,  and  I  guess 
I  mistook  him. 

Stevey  Todd  and  I  went  to  sea  again  in 
the  coasting  trade,  and  mainly  to  the  south, 
and  saw  the  coasts  and  parts  we  knew  in  the 
Hebe  Maitland  days.  So  I  passed  several 
years  more. 


CHAPTER  XII 
Cbe  fflannagan  an&  "Imperial—  Continuing  tbe 


I  WAS  taking  a  cargo  of  machinery  and 
carts  one  time  to  the  city  of  Tampico 
in  Mexico,  and  from  there  I  was  to  go  for 
return  cargo  to  a  little  republic  to  the  south 
that  we'll  call  Guadaloupe,  whose  capital 
city  we'll  call  Rosalia.  The  real  names  of 
them  sounded  that  way,  soft  and  sleepy,  and 
warm  and  sweet,  like  hot  waffles  and  honey. 
According  to  reputation  it  was  a  place  where 
revolutions  were  billed  for  Mondays,  Wed 
nesdays,  and  Fridays,  and  the  other  days 
left  for  siestas  and  argument.  They  were 
fixed  that  way  in  respect  to  entertain 
ment. 

But  there  came  to  me  in  Tampico  a  man 

named  Flannagan,    who  said  he  was  man 

ager  of  "  The  Flannagan  and  Imperial  Itin 

erant  Exhibition,"  a  company  composed  of 

238 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    239 

three  Japanese  performers,  a  tin-type  man 
from  New  England,  and  a  trick  dog  who 
was  thoughtful  and  spotted.  Flannagan 
said  he  wanted  to  go  far,  far  from  Tampico, 
because,  he  says,  "  Thim  Tampican  peons 
ain't  seen  tin  cints  apiece  since  they  sold 
their  souls,"  he  says,  "  at  that  price,"  he 
says,  "  to  the  divil  that  presides  over  loaf 
ers."  I  told  him  I  was  going  to  Rosalia  in 
Guadaloupe  which  had  a  local  system  of  en 
tertainment  already,  and  he  says,  "  Guada 
loupe!"  he  says,  "Rosalia!  D'ye  moind 
thim  names !  It's  like  sthrokin'  a  cat  "  ;  and 
the  company  came  aboard  at  five  dollars  a 
head,  three  polite  Japanese  tumblers  and 
rope-walkers,  the  thoughtful  dog,  whose 
name  was  David,  and  the  tin-type  man,  who 
was  cynical.  He'd  gone  into  tin-typing, 
Flannagan  said,  so  as  to  express  contempt 
and  satire  for  his  fellow-men. 

"  But,"  says  Flannagan,  "  it  do  be  curi 
ous  how  thim  Dagoes  in  this  distimpered 
climate  rejoice  to  see  thimsilves  wid  a  vill* 


240    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

yanous  exprission  an'  pathriotic  attichude  in 
a  two  be  four  photygraph." 

We  sailed  away  down  the  Gulf,  through 
the  Strait  of  Honduras  and  into  the  Carib 
bean  Sea,  with  quiet  weather,  so  that  the 
Japanese  could  rope-walk  in  the  rigging 
and  tumble  peaceable  about  the  deck.  The 
only  trouble  was  the  feeling  created  by  the 
vicious  photographs  the  tin-typer  took  of 
the  crew.  David  used  to  sit  quiet  mostly, 
and  look  over  the  sea,  and  scratch  his  spots, 
for  some  of  them  were  put  on. 

Flannagan  was  a  fiery-eyed  and  easy- 
spoken  man,  who  had  picked  up  the  tumblers 
in  California  and  the  tin-type  man  some 
where  on  the  plains.  But  David  was  a 
friend  of  his  of  years'  standing,  and  he  was 
a  dog  I  should  call  naturally  gifted,  and  with 
that  of  a  friendly  nature,  sober,  decent,  mid 
dle-aged,  comfortable,  and  one  who  took 
things  as  they  came.  But  Flannagan  had 
hair  that  was  wild  and  red,  and  his  com 
plexion  was  similar.  He  was  large  and 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    241 

bony.  His  voice  was  windy,  his  manner 
oratorical,  and  his  nature  sudden.  The  Jap 
anese  spoke  little  English  and  couldn't  be 
told  apart,  but  as  to  that  there  was  no  need 
of  it.  They  were  skilful,  small,  and  dark, 
with  rubber  bones  and  extra  joints,  and 
they  could  smile  from  a  hundred  and  thir 
teen  classified  and  labelled  attitudes.  We 
came  one  afternoon  into  the  harbour  of 
Rosalia. 

Speaking  of  Rosalia,  it's  a  green  and 
pink  and  white  town,  in  a  valley  that  opens 
on  the  sea,  with  mountains  behind  it.  It's 
a  prettier  town  than  Portate.  In  the  centre 
is  the  little  square  or  plaza,  filled  with  palms 
and  roses  and  bushes.  There's  a  lamp-post 
near  the  middle  and  the  ruins  of  a  stone 
fountain.  Around  three  sides  of  the  plaza 
are  shops,  where  you  can  buy  your  hands' 
full  of  bread  and  fruit  for  a  cent  or  two; 
and  casinos  or  saloons  where  they  play 
monte  and  fight  gamecocks;  and  a  hotel, 
with  men  asleep  on  the  steps  of  it.  On  the 


242  The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

fourth  side  is  the  Palazio  del  Libertad, 
which  they  commonly  call  it  La  Libertad. 
It  contains  the  government  and  the  families 
of  most  of  it.  There  are  the  offices  and 
residences  of  the  President  and  the  depart 
mental  ministers,  the  legislative  chambers, 
courtrooms,  soldiers'  barracks,  and  other 
things.  It's  the  pride  of  Guadaloupe  and 
the  record  of  its  revolutions.  It's  been  sixty 
years  in  building,  and  each  new  government 
adds  something  to  remember  it  by.  It  has 
white  stucco  fronts,  and  towers,  doors,  inner 
courts,  and  roofs.  If  you  are  looking  for 
a  department,  you  walk  along  the  fronts  till 
you  see  a  likely-looking  sign  that  seems  to 
refer  in  figures  of  speech  to  that  depart 
ment.  Then  you  go  in.  But  when  the  gov 
ernment  changes  by  revolution — or  by  elec 
tion,  which  sometimes  happens,  when  no  one 
is  looking — why,  then  the  departments  shift 
around  in  La  Libertad  to  suit  themselves 
better,  and  they're  apt  to  leave  their  signs 
behind  them.  Besides  that,  each  new  minis- 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    243 

ter  will  decorate  himself  and  his  department 
with  names  to  fit  his  ideas  of  beauty  and 
usefulness,  and  he'll  proclaim  these  in  the 
official  gazette  for  the  intention  of  his  de 
partment.  The  Guadaloupeans  argue  the 
competence  of  a  minister  according  as  he 
has  a  department  with  titles  that  sweep  the 
horizon  and  claim  kin  with  the  Antipodes 
and  the  Resurrection.  Only  it  seemed  to 
me  that  these  things  tended  in  time  to  make 
the  figures  of  speech  on  the  signs  sort  of 
far-fetched. 

It  was  that  way  that  Flannagan  and  I, 
with  David,  the  tin-type  man  and  the  tum 
blers,  fell  on  the  "  Department  of  Military 
and  Internal  Peace/'  when  we  were  looking 
for  permits  to  ship  cargoes  and  deliver  Jap 
anese  performances,  under  the  sign  "  Office 
of  Discretionary  Regulations."  That  may 
have  been  all  right  enough,  for  most  of  the 
departments  were  that  accommodating  they 
would  do  any  agreeable  business  that  came 
their  way;  but  it  appeared  to  me,  the  revo- 


244    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

lutions  left  the  government  too  full  of 
idioms. 

There  we  waited  till  Flannagan  became 
fierce  with  the  heat  and  the  impatience  of 
him. 

"  Discretionary ! "  he  says,  striding  around 
with  his  nostrils  full  of  wrath,  and  banging 
at  doors.  "  Would  they  be  boilin'  us  the 
night  wid  the  discreetness  of  'em  ?  " 

With  that  there  was  an  opening  of  a 
door,  and  there  waddled  in  a  little  fat  mes 
tizo,  both  shorter  and  fatter  than  seemed 
right  or  natural.  He  wore  red  and  yellow 
livery  and  shining  buttons,  and  we  thought 
he  was  likely  the  official  butler  or  door  boy. 
He  seemed  to  have  eaten  too  much,  as  a 
rule,  and  looked  sleepy  and  in  a  bad  temper. 

"  Boy/'  says  Flannagan,  striding  up  to 
him,  "  where's  the  misbegotten  and  corrupt 
official  of  Disthressionary  Regularities?  Do 
we  wait  here  till  the  explosion  of  doom? 
Spheak,  ye  lump  of  butther !  "  he  says.  "  Or 
do  we  not  ?  " 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    245 

"  Carambos ! "  says  the  extraordinary 
clothes,  backing  off  and  speaking  snappish. 
"  If  you  don't  like  it,  get  out !  " 

"  Carambos,  is  it?"  says  Flannagan,  en 
raged  and  grabbing  him  by  the  collar.  "  Im- 
pidence !  "  he  says,  "  an'  ye  talk  so  to  the 
Manager  of  the  Flannagan  and  Imparial ! " 

With  that  he  gets  him  also  by  his  new 
trousers  and  heaves  him  into  the  corridor, 
where  was  a  handsome  half-caste  Spanish 
woman,  more  Spanish  than  Indian,  who 
looked  dignified  and  happy  in  a  purple  dress. 
She  fell  against  the  wall  to  avoid  him,  and 
appeared  surprised.  He  scrambled  up.  Then 
he  clutched  his  hair,  and  waddled  down  the 
corridor,  shrieking,  and  the  purple  dress  be 
gan  to  gobble  with  her  laughter. 

"  Why,"  she  says,  in  a  mellow  voice — 
"  Ho !  ho !  haw !  haw !  Why  does  the  distin 
guished  serior  cast  the  Minister  of  Military 
and  Internal  Peace  thus  upon  his  digesting, 
immediately  his  too  great  meal  thereafter?  " 

"  Hivins !  "  says  Flannagan. 


246    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

"  Now  he  will  say  the  internal  peace  is 
disturbed,  meaning  his  digestion,  and  bring 
the  military,  to  the  end  that  the  distinguished 
seiiors  shall  be  placed  in  the  dungeons  of  La 
Libertad,  which,"  she  says  kindly,  "  beyond 
expectation  are  wet,  and  the  seiiors  will  prob 
ably  decay.  He  is  my  husband — Ho,  ho! 
haw,  haw!  "  she  says.  "  He  is  a  pig." 

Flannagan  was  speechless  for  a  moment. 
The  tin-type  man  pointed  his  camera  at  the 
purple  dress,  and  was  going  to  take  a  misan 
thropic  photograph,  and  David  went  and 
stood  on  his  head  before  her,  so  that  she 
laughed  harder :  "  Ho !  ho !  haw !  haw !  "  and 
spread  out  her  hands,  which  had  two  rings 
to  a  finger,  and  the  mixed  stones  of  her  neck 
lace  clicked  together  with  her  laughter. 

"  Put  up  yer  camery,  typist,"  says  Flan 
nagan,  getting  hold  of  his  diplomacy. 
"  None  of  your  contimptimous  photographs 
of  the  lady.  Sure/'  he  says,  "  it's  wid  great 
discomposure  I'm  taken  to  be  treatin'  so  the 
iligint  buttons  an'  canned-tomato  clothes  en- 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    247 

closin',"  he  says,  "  the  milithary  an'  internal 
digestion  of  the  husband  of  yourself,"  he 
says,  "  as  foine  a  lady,  an'  that  educated,  as 
me  eyes  iver  beheld.  'Tis  me  impulses,"  he 
says,  "  'tis  me  warm  an'  hearty  nature.  But 
your  ladyship  won't  be  allowin'  a  triflin' 
incident  to  interfere  wid  enjoyin'  the  ex 
hibition  by  me  Japanese  frinds  of  the  mys- 
therious  art  of  ancient  Asia,  an'  me  that 
proud  of  your  ladyship's  approvin' !  " 

"What  can  they  do?"  she  says,  looking 
interested,  while  the  three  Japanese  bowed 
in  a  limber  manner,  and  smiled  thin  and 
mystical  Asiatic  smiles. 

"Oh,  hivins!"  said  Flannagan.  "Oh, 
that  I  might  see  thim  again  for  the  first  time, 
in  the  bloom  of  me  innocence  of  marvels! 
For  a  thousand  years  by  the  imerald  seas  of 
the  Orient,"  he  says, — and  then  one  of  them 
bent  backward,  and  brought  his  head  up  be 
tween  his  legs,  and  smiled;  and  the  purple 
dress  fell  against  the  wall  with  pleasure  and 
surprise. 


248    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

"  Come  after  me,"  she  says,  opening  a 
door  in  the  corridor,  "  heretofore  the  ar 
rival  of  my  pig  husband." 

We  went  up  twisting  staircases  that  ap 
peared  unaccountable  and  weren't  counted. 
We  saw  furnished  rooms  through  open 
doors,  and  at  last  we  came  to  a  large  room, 
high  up  under  a  tower,  and  looking  out  over 
the  Plaza,  and  in  another  direction  over  the 
roofs  of  La  Libertad.  It  seemed  to  be  un 
used,  and  was  darkened  with  shutters,  and 
littered  with  the  miscellaneous  and  upset 
furniture  of  past  administrations. 

The  Minister  of  Military  and  Internal 
Peace  was  named  "  Georgio  Bill,"  from 
which  a  man  might  argue  the  origins  of  his 
family.  The  purple  dress  was  called  "  Ma 
dame  Bill/'  because  French  titles  were  popu 
lar  with  the  official  ladies.  She  left  us 
there  in  a  stately  manner,  and  then  fell  down 
the  stairs  through  mixing  her  feet.  She 
was  dignified  and  cheerful,  but  she  had  large 
feet. 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    249 

Through  the  shutters  we  saw  the  Plaza 
beginning  to  stir  with  the  evening  crowds. 
A  few  blocks  over  the  flat  roofs  of  houses, 
we  saw  the  harbour,  and  the  Annalee  float 
ing  at  anchor. 

When  Madame  Bill  came  back  she  brought 
with  her  two  negresses  with  baskets,  who 
straightened  the  furniture  and  laid  the 
table.  The  shutters  were  closed,  and  a  lamp 
or  two  lit,  and  we  dined  sumptuous  to  the 
elegant  dialogue  of  Flannagan  and  Madame 
Bill.  "  For  a  thousand  years,"  says  Flanna 
gan,  "  by  the  imerald  seas  of  the  Orient"; 
and  the  Japanese  did  moderate  after-dinner 
tumbling,  with  mild  but  curious  bow-knots. 
David  marched  and  saluted,  and  after  that 
he  climbed  into  his  chair,  and  got  his  pipe, 
which  Flannagan  lit  for  him ;  he  got  it  fixed 
between  his  teeth,  laid  his  head  on  his  paws, 
pulled  a  few  puffs,  and  went  to  sleep.  He  was 
a  calm  one,  David,  as  I  said,  and  ingenious, 
and  experienced.  Madame  Bill  lit  her  cheroot 
thoughtful,  and  there  was  conversation. 


250    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

"The  Senor  Bill/'  she  says,  "is  at  the 
present  pursuing  the  foreigners  through 
out  Rosalia  and  La  Libertad  with  a  por 
tion  of  the  Guadaloupean  army.  It  was 
not  wise  to  cast  the  Minister  of  Military  and 
Internal  Peace  so  upon  his  digestion,  which 
is  to  him  important.  But  without  doubt  you 
are  distinguished  and  experienced,  especially 
the  Senor  David.  They  will  not  look  for 
you  perhaps  here,  which  is  over  my  apart 
ments,  but  will  attack,  it  may  be,  the  ship  of 
your  coming  here,  and  in  that  way  be  imbe 
cile  and  foolish." 

"  Hivins !  "  says  Flannagan.  "  But  I'm 
thinkin',  wid  great  admiration  for  yourself, 
ma'am,  I'm  thinkin'  this  country  wid  its  in- 
terestin'  people  in  pajamies,  its  scenery  re- 
semblin'  a  lobster  salad,  an'  government 
illuminated  by  figures  of  spache  an'  inspired 
wid  seltzer-wather — I'm  thinkin'  it  would 
make  its  fortune,  sure,  by  exhibition  of  itself 
in  the  capitals  of  the  worrld,  ma'am.  Not 
Barnum's,  nor  the  Flannagan  an'  Imparial, 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    251 

would  compare  with  it.  An'  'tis  thrue, 
ma'am,  as  a  showman  in  the  profession,  I 
couldn't  be  exprissin'  betther  me  wondher  an' 
admiration." 

Then  the  tin-type  man  put  in,  and  he 
sneered  some :  "  I  ain't  much  on  admiration 
and  wonder." 

"  You're  not,  typist,"  says  Flannagan. 
"  Tis  curdled  like  he  is,  ma'am,  wid  invet 
erate  scorn,  the  poor  man !  " 

"  The  human  bein'  is  vicious  from  origi 
nal  sin,"  says  the  tin-type  man.  "  It  comes 
out  in  the  camery,"  he  says.  "  You  can't 
fool  the  camery.  It  tells  ye  the  Bible  truth," 
he  says.  "  Nor  I  ain't  expectin'  anything 
from  a  broiled  and  frizzled  country  like  this, 
where  the  continent's  shaved  down  so  nar 
row  you  could  take  a  photograph  of  two 
oceans.  And  yet  it's  as  good  as  anywhere 
else.  I  takes  tin-types  and  says  nothing." 

"  Santa  Maria! "  says  Madame  Bill. 

And  Flannagan  says  proudly :  "  'Tis  as 
I  told  ye,  ma'am.  There's  not  such  an 


252    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

other  to  be  seen  for  extinsive  scornful- 
fulness." 

"  Speaking  of  the  ship,  ma'am,"  I  says, 
"  I  guess  it's  all  right.  Ain't  you  afraid 
your  husband  will  get  internationally  com 
plicated?" 

She  gestured  and  grinned. 

"  Afraid !  I !  My  Georgio !  Neither  for 
him  nor  of  him.  Moreover,  I  think," — paus 
ing  with  her  cheroot  in  the  air — "  that  he  has 
heard  from  below,  and  is  now  outside  the 
door.  He  pants.  He  has  climbed  the  stairs 
in  haste,  the  little  pig.  Ho,  ho !  haw,  haw !  " 

At  that  the  Minister  of  Military  and  In 
ternal  Peace  burst  in,  with  the  sweat  of  his 
fatness  on  his  face,  his  teeth  sticking  out, 
and  his  features  expressing  intentions. 

"  You  do,  you  Madame,"  he  says,  "  you 
woman!  You  hide  them,  my  enemies,  in- 
sulters !  " 

"  You  would  do  best/'  she  says  to  Flan 
nagan,  "  without  doubt,  now  to  enclose  and 
suppress  him,  my  Georgio." 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    253 

"I  go!  I  return!"  he  says,  stamping 
his  feet. 

"  Nayther,"  says  Flannagan,  enclosing 
his  collar  with  one  hand,  and  suppressing  his 
features  with  the  other.  "  Ye  sits  in  the 
chair,  me  little  man.  Ye  smokes  a  cigar  in 
genteel  conviviality  afther  coolin'  down  to 
be  recognised  by  a  thermometer — an'  ye  lis 
tens  to  the  advice  of  your  beaucheous  an' 
accomplished  lady,"  he  says,  "  that  has  in 
moind  a  bit  of  domestic  discipline." 

He  dropped  him  in  a  chair  facing  Ma 
dame  Bill.  David,  in  the  next  chair,  woke  up, 
and  appeared  to  say  to  himself,  "  They're  do 
ing  something  else,"  and  went  to  sleep  again. 
The  tin-type  man  sat  by  the  window  and 
looked  through  the  shutters  at  the  Plaza. 
They  were  making  a  noise  on  the  Plaza. 
Now  and  then  a  military  let  off  his  gun, 
and  the  people  shouted  as  if  they  wanted 
him  to  do  it  again.  The  Japanese  bowed 
to  Bill  across  the  table,  and  smiled  mys 
tical. 


254    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

"  By  the  tomb  of  my  mother,  you  shall 
pay !  "  gurgled  Bill. 

"  Come  off !  "  says  Flannagan  kindly. 
"  She  hadn't  any  tomb,  an'  ye  disremember 
who  she  was." 

"  Why,"  says  Madame  Bill,  "  the  Senor 
Flannagan  on  that  point  speaks  nearly  the 
truth." 

"A-r-r-r!  I'll  have  your  blood!"  says 
the  Minister. 

"  An'  me  givin'  ye  the  soft  word,"  says 
Flannagan,  "  an'  apologies  for  takin'  ye  for 
a  decorated  rubber  ball,  an'  bouncin'  ye  on 
the  floor !  'Twas  wrong  of  me.  Sure,  now, 
Misther  Bill,  an'  is  there  more  needed  be 
tween  gentlemen  ?  "  He  looked  for  help  to 
Madame  Bill,  who  gazed  at  the  smoke  of  her 
cheroot  and  seemed  absent-minded. 

"  Listen,  my  Georgio,"  she  began  at  last, 
"  I  have  considered,  and  I  say  you  have  done 
foolishly  to  scatter  the  soldiers  about  the 
city  to  hurry  and  to  inquire,  so  that  the  peo 
ple  become  excited.  Hear  in  the  Plaza  al- 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    255 

ready  how  they  cry  out  like  children,  and 
each  one  is  angry  at  a  different  thing." 

The  Minister  started,  and  listened,  and 
wiped  his  wet  forehead  with  his  sleeve. 
The  roar  in  the  Plaza,  was  increasing.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  puffed,  and  he 
says: 

"  The  military  is  scattered !  It  is  a  mob ! 
I  must  go !  Attend  me,  my  wife !  " 

But  Flannagan  enclosed  his  collar.  "  Re- 
spict  for  me  own  intherests,"  he  says,  "  is  me 
proudest  virtue.  Would  ye  have  me  missin' 
the  sight  of  a  rivolution  from  a  private  box, 
an'  the  shpectacle  of  explodin'  liberty?  An' 
ye'll  be  havin'  me  blood  to-morry  by  the 
tomb  of  your  mother  ?  Ah,  now !  " 

"  Let  me  go !  "  he  says,  shrieking  and 
struggling.  "  I  accept  your  apology !  Say 
no  more !  " 

Flannagan  looked  at  Madame  Bill.  The 
crowd  was  shouting  more  in  unison  now. 
They  says,  "  Vivo  Alvarez !  "  and  "  Bill  al 
f  uego !  "  which  the  latter  means,  as  you  or 


256    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

I  might  say,  "To  hell  with  Bill!"  The 
Minister  shivered  and  struggled,  but  more 
moderate. 

"  The  military  will  be  confused,  will  do 
nothing  without  order !  "  he  pleaded  to  Ma 
dame  Bill. 

"  The  military,"  says  the  tin-type  man, 
from  the  shutters,  speaking  through  his  nose, 
soft  and  scornful,  "  they  appear  to  feel  toler 
able  good.  There's  a  batch  of  'em  on  the 
steps  under  here,  a-sittin'  in  their  sins,  and 
shoutin'  '  Down  with  Bill ! '  very  hearty 
like." 

"  Mutiny ! "  howled  the  Minister.  "  Alas ! " 
and  he  sat  down,  wiped  his  forehead  with 
his  sleeve,  and  panted,  and  appeared  more 
composed. 

Flannagan  sat  down,  too.  "  I  do  be  feel- 
in'  warm  the  same,"  he  says.  "  Shall  we 
have  a  drink  ?  " 

Madame  Bill  was  still  turning  things  over 
in  her  mind.  "  Doubtless  they  so  shout," 
she  says.  "  They  are  not  without  sense.  Lis- 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    257 

ten  again,  my  Georgio.  I  have  considered. 
It  is  perhaps  not  bad.  Moreover,  it  is  done. 
But  the  Department  of  the  Military  is  not 
good  for  you.  It  worries  you,  therefore  you 
disturb  it,  therefore  it  does  not  like  you. 
Also,  we  have  lost  popularity  in  Rosalia.  But 
in  the  interior,  as  yet,  no.  Therefore,  con 
sider.  Seiior  Alvarez  is  perhaps  generous. 
If  he  overthrow  the  government,  he  will  de 
sire  there  come  an  election,  and  who  knows  ? 
We  may  for  him  go  to  the  interior,  and  in 
reward  be  Minister  of  Agriculture,  which  is 
cooler.  But  if  he  overthrow  not  the  govern 
ment,  but  by  compromise  become  Minister  of 
Military  and  Internal  Peace,  then  my 
Georgio  will  be  in  innocence  a  victim,  and 
perhaps  will  have  to  hide,  which  is  hot  and 
dull,  or  go  to  the  dungeons  of  La  Liber- 
tad,  which  is  dull  and  wet;  or  we  would 
escape  from  the  country  in  the  distinguished 
ship  of  the  Seiior  Buckingham,  or  in  the  Im 
perial  Company  of  Seiior  Flannagan,  which 
would  be  better." 


258    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

"  An'  it's  proud  I'd  be  to  have  ye,"  says 
Flannagan,  "  as  I  said,  ma'am,  in  the  capi 
tals  of  the  world.  Hivins !  "  he  says,  "  the 
tropical  advertisements !  By  the  mimory  of 
Ireland,  'tis  a  filibuster  expedition  I  foresee! 
Me  genius  is  long  suppressed." 

Madame  Bill  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"  Who  knows  ?  Therefore  be  calm,  little  one. 
We  will  see  what  they  do  in  the  Plaza." 

The  fallen  or  falling  Minister  emptied  a 
glass  of  iced  wine,  and  looked  more  con 
tented  than  before.  He  was  a  pleasant 
enough  man  as  a  rule,  except  when  not  di 
gesting  well,  and  generally  submissive  to 
Madame  Bill.  We  put  out  the  lights  and 
opened  the  shutters,  and  all  looked  out  on  the 
Plaza  except  David,  who  woke  up,  and  tak 
ing  things  in,  appeared  to  say  to  himself, 
"  They're  doing  something  else,"  and  went 
to  sleep  again. 

The  Plaza  was  a  boiling  mess,  but  the 
military  were  enjoying  themselves  in  good 
order.  They  were  collected  on  the  steps  of 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    259 

La  Libertad  below,  about  five  hundred  of 
them.  They  seemed  to  be  leading  the  cheer 
ing.  The  hotel  across  the  Plaza  was  lit  up 
and  the  windows  full  of  heads. 

Then  a  hush  fell  everywhere,  and  the 
faces  were  turned  toward  the  portico,  with 
the  six  great  pillars  and  lamps  on  each,  that 
formed  the  centre  of  the  Plaza  front  of  La 
Libertad.  Two  men  stood  on  the  top  step, 
one  in  a  sombrero,  and  the  other  in  black 
coat  and  tall  hat.  The  tall  hat,  by  his  ges 
tures,  was  addressing  the  crowd,  but  we 
couldn't  hear  him. 

"  The  President  and  Alvarez,"  says  Ma 
dame  Bill,  very  calm.  "  They  compromise. 
My  Georgio  will  be  hot  and  dull." 

The  crowd  cried  "  Vivo  "  everything  ex 
cept  Bill.  They  wanted  him  "  al  fuego  "  just 
the  same,  which,  as  you  might  say,  means 
something  like :  "  Oh,  take  him  away.  Put 
him  somewhere  and  boil  him ! "  They  seemed 
distressed  with  him  that  way,  and  I  took 
it  Madame  Bill  was  right  that  he'd  been  too 


26 o    The  Flannagan  and  Imperial 

lively  with  his  military,  and  it  was  up  with 
him.  A  band  began  to  play  by  the  hotel. 

"  My  wife  is  ever  right,"  says  Bill,  and 
began  feeling  toward  the  table  for  the  iced 
wine.  "  Carambos !  It  is  not  with  Madame 
Bill  to  be  discouraged.  No!  Bueno!  All 
right,  my  wife.  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

Madame  Bill  said  we'd  leave  him  there, 
which  we  did,  after  closing  the  shutters.  We 
left  him  drinking  iced  wine,  eating  mangoes, 
blowing  smoke,  and  looking  like  a  porpoise 
in  respect  to  complexion,  but  shorter  and 
fatter  than  a  porpoise,  and  remarkable  youth 
ful. 

It  came  on  the  Monday  following  and 
my  cargo  was  shipped.  There  was  a  plat 
form  put  up  on  the  Plaza,  and  I  heard  Flan 
nagan  making  a  speech  there,  in  which  the 
feeling  was  eloquent,  and  the  languages  as 
they  came  along.  The  tin-type  man,  under 
the  platform,  was  taking  tin-types  to  make 
a  man  remember  how  he  was  depraved. 
David's  spots  were  running  with  the  heat, 


The  Flannagan  and  Imperial    261 

but  he  scratched  them  and  made  no  trouble. 
The  Japanese  sat  on  their  heels  and  smiled. 

"  For  a  thousand  years,"  says  Flannagan, 
"  by  the  imerald  seas  of  the  Orient,  have  the 
ancesthors  of  me  frinds  on  me  right  devel 
oped  the  soopleness  of  limb  an'  the  art  that 
is  becalled  by  the  Mahatmas  an'  thim  Bood- 
hists  '  the  art  of  the  symbolical  attichude,' 
as  discovered  and  practised  in  the  Injian 
Ocean's  coral  isles,  which  by  the  same  they 
do  expriss  their  feelin's  till  ye  get  a  mysthi- 
cal  pain  in  your  stomick  wid  lookin'  at  'em. 
'Twas  so  done,"  he  says,  "  by  the  imerald 
seas  of  the  Orient." 

That  evening  they  came  secretly  aboard, 
Flannagan  and  the  Company,  and  with  them 
Bill  and  Madame  Bill.  We  weighed  anchor 
the  next  morning,  and  got  away.  The  Bill 
family  became  an  addition  and  a  credit  to 
the  Flannagan  and  Imperial,  as  it  turned  out. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

3f  lannagan  anfc  Steves  So&D-Captain 

bam  'Returns  to  <5reenou0b— Gbe  "Warra* 
tive  Continued 

THE  Flannagan  and  Imperial  was  the 
last  cargo  I  carried,  but  I  carried  it 
near  five  years.  It  was  what  you  might 
call  a  continuous  cargo;  the  Annalee  was 
in  partnership  with  it;  that  is,  Flannagan 
and  I  went  into  partnership  together.  Ma 
dame  Bill's  influence  appeared  to  act  expan 
sive  on  Flannagan's  ideas,  and  they  ex 
panded  the  Company.  She  was  an  uncom 
mon  woman,  with  a  pushing  mind,  and 
exhibited  as  "  The  Princess  Popocatapetl, 
Lineal  Descendant  of  Montezuma  and  Queen 
of  the  Caribbeans."  Flannagan  engaged 
Bill  to  exhibit  as  "  The  Fat  Boy,"  and  he  was 
very  successful  in  this  way,  weighing  two 
hundred,  and  in  height  four  feet  eight  inches, 
though  thirty  to  forty  years  old.  His  face 
262 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      263 

was  round  and  smooth  as  an  apple,  and  he 
wore  a  little  jacket  and  sailor  hat,  and  car 
ried  a  piece  of  gingerbread  in  general,  when 
on  exhibition ;  and  in  that  way  he  looked  as 
young  as  might  be  needed,  and  satisfactory 
to  every  one.  Flannagan  used  to  rent  the  ad 
vertising  space  on  Bill's  legs,  for  "  Infants' 
Foods  "  and  "  Patent  Medicines  for  Dyspep 
sia,"  which  was  popular  and  profitable.  But 
I  was  saying  Madame  Bill  was  a  handsome 
woman,  and  valuable,  and  Flannagan  him 
self  hadn't  a  better  eye  for  giving  the  public 
sensations.  She  expanded  his  ideas.  Yet 
Flannagan  had  a  knack.  He  was  grand  at 
speech-making,  and  sudden  and  spectacular 
by  nature. 

He  shipped  with  me  then  from  Rosalia 
to  the  different  ports'!  was  billed  for  that 
voyage,  picking  up  more  additions  to  the 
Company,  till  it  was  a  large  company.  I 
was  free  to  admit  he  made  good  profits  out 
of  the  seaport  cities  between  South  America 
and  Charleston;  so  at  Charleston,  when  lie 


264      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

offered  me  a  partnership,  I  felt  agreeable, 
and  took  it,  on  this  agreement;  I  to  put  in 
the  use  and  management  of  the  Annalee,  and 
he  to  put  in  "  The  Flannagan  and  Imperial ;  " 
I  to  run  the  ship  and  he  to  run  the  show. 
The  profits  should  be  divided  half-yearly, 
after  paying  expenses  of  ship  and  show. 

We  ran  under  this  agreement  several 
years,  and  exhibited  all  the  way  from  Boston 
to  Rio,  according  to  the  season,  and  some 
times  went  inland  up  navigable  rivers,  such 
as  to  Albany  and  Philadelphia.  We  sum 
mered  northward  and  wintered  southward, 
and  did  better  than  most  shows  on  transport 
ation  expenses,  besides  having  an  open  sea 
son  through  the  year.  Prosperity  kept  us 
together  until  after  Bill  died,  which  came 
from  his  being  too  ambitious,  and  proud  of 
his  line  in  the  profession,  and  having  his 
heart  set  on  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 
Stevey  Todd,  here,  he  got  too  interested  in 
helping  Bill  along  in  his  career,  and  fatten 
ing  him  up  to  a  high  standard.  But  Bill's 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      265 

digestion  was  never  good.  He  died  rather 
young. 

Stevey  Todd  has  cooked  for  me  so  long, 
that  it's  got  to  the  point  that  other  victuals 
than  Stevey  Todd's  seem  unfriendly  stran 
gers,  likely  to  be  hostile.  I  claim  that,  as  a 
cook,  Stevey's  a  bold  and  skilful  one,  and 
enterprising.  But  outside  the  galley  he's  a 
backward  man  and  caution's  his  motto,  and 
in  argument  he's,  as  you  might  say,  a  grad 
ual  man.  His  nature,  as  differing  there  from 
Flannagan's,  might  be  seen  in  this  way.  For 
when  Bill  was  dead,  Flannagan  and  Stevey 
Todd  each  wanted  to  marry  Madame  Bill, 
and  their  notions  of  it  were  as  different  as 
sharks  are  different  from  mud-turtles, 
Flannagan's  notion  mainly  resembling  a 
shark's,  as  follows.  He  says : 

"  Popo,"  he  says,  pretty  quick,  "  Bill's  off. 
Here's  to  him,  an'  may  his  ghost  weigh  two 
hundred  and  fifty.  I'm  on,"  he  says. 
"Whin  shall  it  be?" 

Then   a  madder   woman   than   Madame 


266      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

Bill  was  seldom  seen,  for  she  threw  Monte- 
zuma's  crown  at  Flannagan,  and  chased  him 
under  the  tent  ropes  with  the  gilt-headed  and 
feather-tufted  spear  of  the  Queen  of  the 
Caribbeans,  which  ruined  an  eighteen-dollar 
crown  and  stuck  Flannagan  vicious  in  the 
shoulder-blade  with  the  spear. 

Whereas  Stevey  Todd  bided  a  while,  as 
a  cautious  man  would  do,  until  some  decent 
time  had  gone  by;  and  then  he  gets  me,  as 
a  friend,  in  ambush  inside  the  cabin  window 
for  precaution  and  testimony,  and  plants  the 
scornful  typist  at  a  distance  to  take  photo 
graphs  that  might  be  useful,  and  then  he 
brings  Madame  Bill  to  the  window. 

"  Now,"  he  says  to  her,  "  supposing  there 
was  a  man  that  we'll  call  middle-aged, 
and  that  might  be  a  cook  maybe  by  pro 
fession,  for  it  wouldn't  do  no  harm  if  we 
took  it  he  had  leanings  that  way,  and  if  you 
said  he  was  as  good  a  one  as  ever  stepped 
into  a  galley,  I  wouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  say 
so  myself,  nor  yet  deny  it,  for  Bill  had  that 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      267 

opinion  himself,  and  he  was  a  man  of  good 
judgment  on  things  that  had  to  do  with  his 
line,  though  when  his  feelings  moved  him 
he  was  apt  to  put  it  warm,  nor  I  ain't  deny 
ing  that  when  his  digestion  was  otherwise, 
his  remarks  was  sometimes  contrary.  Now, 
supposing  there  was  a  lady,  whose  merits  I 
wouldn't  nowise  try  to  state,  but  if  you  was 
to  say  her  talents  was  good,  and  her  weight 
a  hundred  and  forty,  I  wouldn't  say  you  was 
wrong,  which  I've  heard  it  put  that  as  a 
Lineal  Descendant  she  was  worth  climbing 
the  volcano  to  see,  which  supposing  she  com 
plimented  it  by  borrowing  that  name,  it's  no 
harm  if  she  did.  Now,  supposing  those  par 
ties  was  talking  of  this  thing  and  that,  as 
anybody  might  do,  and,  say,  they  got  to  talk 
ing  of  the  show  business  maybe,  or,  say,  they 
happened  to  mention  such  a  thing  as  matri 
mony,  now,"  says  Stevey  Todd,  "what 
would  be  your  idea  of  that  last  as  a  sub 
ject  of  conversation  between  those  par 
ties?" 


268      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

Madame  Bill  didn't  answer  the  question, 
though  it  seemed  to  me  put  delicate,  but  she 
burst  into  melodious  laughter,  and  ran  away, 
and  the  tin-type  man,  whose  natural  expres 
sion  was  dislike  of  his  fellow  man,  he  looked 
disgusted  more'n  you'd  believe,  and  went 
away  too.  Then  Stevey  Todd  put  his  head 
through  the  window,  and  he  says: 

"  Now,  supposing  a  party  acted  in  such 
or  such  a  way  to  one  party,  which  acted  an 
other  way  to  another  party,  what  would 
you  say  might  happen  to  be  her  mean- 
ing?" 

I  gave  my  opinion  candid,  and  truthful. 
I  said,  as  to  Madame  Bill,  I  judged  some 
thing  or  other  pleased  her,  and  by  her  be 
haviour  to  Flannagan  it  looked  as  if  there 
was  something  then  which  she  hadn't  liked, 
though  what  it  might  be  in  either  case  was 
more  than  I  could  say,  but  speaking  gen 
erally  it  looked  hopeful  for  Stevey  Todd, 
and  I  stated  that  same  opinion.  Stevey  Todd 
went  back  to  the  galley,  and  it  seemed  to  me 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      269 

the  difference  between  his  nature  and  Flan- 
nagan's  was  something  to  wonder  at  and  ad 
mire,  and  when  I  saw  Flannagan  he  seemed 
to  have  the  same  opinion  with  me,  for  he 
says: 

"Powers  an'  fryin'  pans!  Thot  cook!" 
he  says.  "  Thot  galley  shlave!  Thot  boiled 
pertaty  widout  salt !  Shall  a  barrel  of  flour 
put  me  in  the  soup?  Tell  me  thot! " 

At  the  time  we  were  exhibiting  in  the 
larger  towns  about  Long  Island  Sound, 
where  it  happened  we'd  never  exhibited  be 
fore,  dropping  into  harbours  and  setting  up 
the  big  tent  on  any  bit  of  land  convenient 
to  the  pier.  We  stayed  a  long  or  short  time, 
according  to  patronage. 

Whether  it  was  that  Flannagan  was  too 
busy,  or  angry  at  Madame  Bill  for  her  ac 
tions,  and  didn't  know  if  he  wanted  a  wife 
with  a  spear,  or  one  that  was  reckless  with  her 
headgear,  I  couldn't  have  said  at  that  time; 
but  he  surely  said  no  more  to  Madame  Bill 
that  I  knew  of,  whereas  Stevey  Todd  kept 


270      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

arguing  with  her  all  over  the  ship,  and  mainly 
under  the  cabin  window.  Sometimes  he'd 
trim  his  sails  close  in  to  the  subject  of  matri 
mony,  and  sometimes  he'd  be  sailing  so  far 
off  the  quarter  that  I  couldn't  but  call  out 
to  him  through  the  window  and  tell  him, 
"  Hard  a  lee  there,  Stevey!  You'll  never 
fetch  it  that  tack;"  when  he'd  shift  his  helm, 
feeling  the  edge  of  the  breeze  with  as  neat 
a  piece  of  seamanship  as  a  man  could  ask, 
and  come  up  dead  into  the  wind,  his  sails 
dropping  back  stiff  on  his  yardarms,  and  the 
subject  of  matrimony  speared  on  the  end  of 
his  bowsprit;  then  Madame  Bill  would  get 
up,  and  run  away  laughing.  She  seemed  to 
enjoy  those  arguments,  and  I  judged  Stevey 
Todd  would  fetch  port  maybe  in  course  of 
time.  Meanwhile  I  sat  smoking  peaceful  at 
my  cabin  window,  and  watched  the  shore 
slipping  by,  that  I  knew  so  well  of  old. 
By-and-by  I  saw  Telford  Point,  and  then 
the  Musquoit  River  mouth  by  Adrian. 
Stevey  Todd  sat  under  the  window  put- 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      271 

ting  fine  edges  on  his  arguments.  And  I 
says: 

"  Stevey/'  I  says,  "  I  was  born  and  bred 
on  this  coast,"  but  Stevey  Todd  was  that 
taken  up  with  his  points  of  argument  to 
Madame  Bill  that  he  didn't  have  any  in 
terest  in  my  beginnings,  and  I  went  off  to 
find  Flannagan. 

"  Flannagan,"  I  says,  "  I  got  a  senti 
ment." 

"  Sintimint,  is  it !  "  he  says.  "  Come  off ! 
Ye  salted  codfish !  If  I  ain't  got  tin  to  your 
one,  I'm  another,"  he  says. 

It  made  me  mad  to  hear  him  talk  that 
way,  and  I  set  him  down  on  the  starboard 
anchor  and  I  argued  it.  I  told  him  of  the 
little  town  of  Greenough,  and  then  I  told 
him  of  Madge  Pemberton,  that  afterwards 
was  Madge  McCulloch,  and  how  the  old 
shore  village  lay,  its  street  and  white  houses 
and  its  church  with  the  gilded  cupola,  till 
Flannagan  got  interested.  And  there  we 
talked  a  long  time. 


272      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

"  Why,  ye  are  salted,  Tom,"  he  says,  "  but 
I'm  not  just  sayin'  ye' re  canned.  We  ain't 
due  in  New  London  till  Thursday,  an'  it's 
on  me  moind  we'll  exhibit  a  bit  in  this  town 
of  Greenough." 

That  afternoon,  then,  we  hauled  into  the 
harbour,  by  where  the  fishing  boats  lay,  and 
moored  the  Annake  to  the  old  stone  pier. 
Flannagan  saw  the  tent,  platform,  and 
benches  put  up,  and  in  the  early  evening  he 
went  inland  to  the  village  and  didn't  come 
back  for  some  hours. 

It  was  a  moonlight  night,  and  the  show 
people  were  still  getting  ready  for  the  next 
day.  I  was  at  the  deck-cabin  window,  smok 
ing  an  evening  pipe,  looking  at  the  tent  that 
stood  on  the  sandy  piece  of  land  beyond  the 
pier.  I  could  see  the  trees  of  the  village,  and 
the  church  spire  against  the  sky,  and  I 
thought  of  the  way  I'd  meant  to  come  back 
to  Greenough,  when  I  left  it  to  go  "  romp 
ing  and  roaming,"  as  Sadler  had  said,  and 
how  now  I  was  come  home  with  grey  hairs. 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      273 

There  was  the  hill  between  Newport  Street 
and  the  harbour,  and  far  along  to  the  west 
I  could  see  where  Pemberton's  stood,  and 
see  what  might  be  its  lights. 

Pretty  soon  I  heard  David,  the  trick  dog, 
barking,  and  I  looked  out,  and  saw  Stevey 
Todd  and  Madame  Bill  coming  along  in  the 
wake  of  David,  and  I  judged  that  Stevey 
Todd  was  meaning  to  put  in  an  odd  moment 
or  two  arguing,  and  that  Madame  Bill  was 
going  to  be  joyous  about  it.  David  appeared 
to  be  feeling  tolerable  cheerful,  as  if  saying 
to  himself,  "  They're  going  to  do  something 
now,  sure."  They  sat  down  by  the  window, 
and  Madame  Bill  was  speaking: 

"  Stevey  Todd,"  she  says,  "  I  think  it 
would  not  be  such  advantage,  not  at  all.  Be 
cause  it  is  not  good  to  my  looks  that  I  become 
two  hundred  pounds  like  my  Bill,  and  if  now 
I  have  a  husband  who  cook  so  delicious,  so 
perfect,  as  you,  and  who  make  me  laugh  be 
tween  meals  without  rest  and  without  pity, 
as  you,  which  gives  the  appetite  enormous, 


274      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

so  that  I  have  gained  five  pounds  since  I 
weigh  before,  and  by  this  am  alarmed,  dis 
consolate,  helas!  what  do  I  do?  Am  I  ele 
phants  in  this  show?  But  how?  I  observe 
you  do  not  ask  that  I  marry  you,  but  you  say, 
'  It  is  a  good  time  to  talk  here  or  there, 
about  this  or  that — eh  ?  Well,  perhaps  about 
matrimony/  Haw!  haw!  ho!  ho!  But 
how  so  ?  If  you  do  not  say,  '  Will  you  ? ' 
how  can  I  say  '  No  '  ?  " 

"  Taking  that  argument  so  stated/*  says 
Stevey  Todd,  "  it  might  be  called  a  tidy  argu 
ment  and  no  harm  done,  or  you  might  say 
there  was  two  arguments  in  it.  Now,  tak 
ing  the  first  one,  a  man  might  make  this 
point  as  bearing  on  it :  for  you  take  the  tin- 
typist,  who's  a  good  eater  and  a  well-fleshed 
man,  and  yet  he's  a  gloomy  man,  as  you 
might  say,  not  putting  it  too  strong;  and 
on  the  other  hand  here's  David,  who's  what 
you'd  call  a  joking  dog,  and  as  an  eater  with 
out  an  equal  of  his  size,  though  an  elderly 
'dog,  and  yet  he's  a  thin  dog,  as  his  business 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      275 

in  the  show  makes  needful  for  him.  Which, 
I  says,  might  be  put  up  as  an  argument  by 
such  as  wanted  to  use  it,  if  any  one  was  speak 
ing  contrary  to  cooks  as  being  dangerous  to 
parties  in  the  show  business,  on  account  of 
interests  not  being  along  the  line  of  weight, 
nor  yet  advertising  space  on  legs  which 
they're  able  to  furnish.  Now,  taking  the 
second  argument,  I  wouldn't  deny  you  might 
be  right,  and  there's  the  point.  For  not  to 
speak  of  giving  no  cause  for  crowns  throwed 
around  expensive,  or  spears  stuck  into  par 
ties  disrespectful  to  memory  of  deceased,  I 
says,  here's  the  point.  For  if  you  can't  say 
'  No,'  till  I  say  '  Will  you?  '  it  follows  you 
can't  do  it  till  I  say  those  words." 

"  I  can  too!  "  says  Madame  Bill. 

"  No,  ye  can't !  No,  ye  can't !  "  says 
Stevey  Todd. 

Madame  Bill  began  to  laugh,  and  Flanna 
gan,  who  was  coming  over  the  ship's  side, 
he  stopped  at  hearing  her,  and  slid  across 
the  deck  behind  the  companion.  Then 


276      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

Madame  Bill  went  below,  ha-ha-ing  melodi 
ous,  and  Flannagan  called  in  a  loud  whisper 
over  the  roof : 

"  Hoi !  Stevey  Todd !  Are  ye  done  wid 
it?" 

"  She  ain't  said  no,"  says  Stevey  Todd. 
"  She  ain't  said  no." 

It  came  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  and 
the  show  was  opened,  and  the  people  came 
flocking  in.  Near  by  the  tent  door  was 
Stevey  Todd's  "  Cocoanut  Cake,  Hot  Waffle 
and  Fizz  Table."  On  the  platform  the  com 
pany  sat  in  a  half-circle,  ready  for  Flanna- 
gan's  opening  speech  to  explain  the  qualities 
and  talents  of  each.  It  was  a  show  to  be 
proud  of,  and  in  point  of  colour  resembling 
solar  spectrums,  or  peacocks'  tails.  Ma 
dame  Bill  had  charge  of  costumes,  and  her 
tastes  were  what  you  might  call  exhilarated. 
Flannagan  began : 

"  Ladies  and  gintlemen,"  he  says.  "  The 
pleasure  I  take  in  inthroducin'  '  The  Flan 
nagan  an'  Imparial  Itinerant  Exhibition,' 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      277 

to  this  intelligent  aujunce,  has  niver  been 
equalled  in  me  mimory. 

"  I  see  before  me,"  he  says,  "  a  ripresenta- 
tive  array  of  this  grreat  counthry's  agricul 
tural  pursuits,  to  say  nothin'  of  thim  that  fish. 
I  see  before  me  numerous  handsome  an'  im- 
posin'  mathrons,  to  say  nothin'  of  foine 
washed  babies.  I  see  before  me  many  a  rosy 
girrl  a-chewin'  cocoanut  candy  that  ain't  so 
swate  as  herself,  an'  many  a  boy  wid  his 
pockets  full  of  paynuts  an'  his  head  full  of 
divelthries. 

"Is  it  the  prisence  of  such  an  aujunce 
which  gives  me  the  pleasure  unequalled  in 
me  mimory?  No! 

"  Ye  see  before  ye  '  The  Flannagan  an' 
Imparial  Itinerant  Exhibition/  ' '  he  says. 
"  Yonder  is  the  three  Japanese  tumblers 
from  the  private  company  of  the  Meekado, 
trained  to  expriss  by  motion  an'  mysthical 
attichude,  the  eternal  principles  of  poethry 
as  understood  by  Orientals,  Hinjoos.  an' 
thim  Chinaysers:  forninst  the  same,  the 


278      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

beaucheous  Princess  Popocatapetl,  whose 
royal  ancesthors  was  discovered  by  Colum 
bus,  an'  buried  by  another  cilibrated  Dago, 
that  ought  t'have  been  ashamed  of  it;  nixt 
her,  the  Hairy  Man,  wid  a  chin  beard  on  the 
bridge  of  his  nose  an'  the  hair  of  his  head 
growin'  out  of  the  shmall  of  his  back ;  nixt, 
the  cilibrated  performin'  dog,  David,  that 
you'll  recognise  by  his  shmilin'  looks  an' 
polkadot  complexion ;  an'  so  on,  the  others  in 
due  order,  that  will  soon  be  increasin'  your 
admiration  for  the  marvels  of  creation,  an' 
servin'  as  texts,  I  doubt  not,  for  the  future 
discoorses  of  me  f rind,  the  venerable  clergy 
man  of  this  parish,  that  sits  in  the  front  row 
— May  Hiven  bless  him ! — all  mimbers  of  the 
Flannagan  an'  Imparial,  including  aye,  even 
down  to  the  poor  wake-minded  man  that  sells 
hot  waffles  at  the  door,  which  if  ye  tell  him, 
af ther  this  performance,  that  his  waffles  is  the 
same  kind  of  waffles  that  a  shoemaker  pegs 
on  for  the  sole  of  a  shoe,  it's  me  private  opin 
ion  he'll  be  in  no  timper  to  arguy  the  point. 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      279 

"  Is  it  pride  in  this  grreat  show  that  gives 
me  the  pleasure  on  this  occasion  unequalled 
in  me  mimory?  No! 

"  What  is  it,  ladies  and  gintlemen  ? 
What  is  it  ? 

"  Gintlemen  and  ladies,"  he  says,  "  'tis 
no  other  than  the  approach  of  the  public 
ciremonial  of  the  rite  of  mathrimony  between 
mesilf,  Michael  Flannagan,  an'  a  party  that 
has  no  notion  what  I'm  talkin'  about,  but  is 
further  named  in  this  docyment,  which  if 
your  riverence  will  now  shtep  up  on  the  plat 
form,  he  will  find  to  be  signed  and  sealed  by 
the  honourable  town  clerk  of  this  pasthoral 
an'  marine  community.  Ladies  an'  gintle 
men,  was  ye  iver  invited  before  to  the  wed- 
din'  of  a  man  of  me  impressive  looks  an' 
oratorical  gifts,  that  first  published  his  own 
banns,  an'  thin  proposed,  in  your  intelligent 
an'  sympathetic  prisence,  to  a  lady  of  exalted 
ancesthry  an'  pre-eminent  fame?  Ye  was 
not  ?  Ye  have  now  that  unparallelled  experi 
ence.  For,  as  ye  see  by  this  license  an'  au- 


280      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

thority,  this  lady,  the  Lineal  Descendant  of 
Mexican  Emperors,  is  known  an'  admired  in 
private  life  as  Madame  Anatolia  Bill.'  " 

With  that  he  stepped  back,  and  offered  his 
hand,  and  said  something  to  Madame  Bill 
that  was  lost  in  the  cheering  of  the  audience. 
Madame  Bill  near  fell  off  her  chair  with  sur 
prise,  and  began  ha-ha-ing  melodious.  What 
with  the  roaring  and  clapping  of  the  crowd, 
Flannagan  and  Madame  Bill  were  up  in 
front  of  the  minister  before  Stevey  Todd 
could  be  heard  from  the  door,  crying,  "  She 
ain't  said  no,  Flannagan!  She  ain't  said 
no !  It  ain't  right !  " 

"  Will  somebody  near  the  door,"  says 
Flannagan,  "kindly  take  the  hot-waffle- 
man  an'  dhrop  a  hot  waffle  down  the  back 
of  his  neck,  to  disthract  his  attintion  while 
the  ciremonies  proceed  ?  "  Stevey  Todd  ran 
out  of  the  door.  But  the  people  of  Green- 
ough  was  happy  in  front,  and  the  show  was 
hilarious  behind.  David  turned  handsprings 
till  he  sweated  his  spots  into  streaks. 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      281 

But  I've  always  had  my  doubts  what 
may  have  been  previous  in  Madame  Bill's 
mind  as  regards  intentions  to  Flannagan 
and  Stevey  Todd.  Which  is  not  saying  but 
Flannagan's  ambush  was  what  you'd  call  a 
good  ambush,  as  arranged  by  one  that  knew 
Madame  Bill  well,  and  knew  her  to  be  a 
show-woman  by  nature  and  gifts,  that  would 
never  have  the  heart  to  spoil  a  fine  act  in  the 
middle  of  it,  when  it  was  coming  on  well. 
The  facts  are  no  more  than  that  she  did 
nothing  to  spoil  the  act.  She  let  it  go 
through.  Her  statement  was  she  hadn't 
made  up  her  mind  before.  Stevey  Todd's 
opinion  was  that  she'd  have  taken  himself, 
barring  Flannagan's  laying  that  stratagem, 
desperate  and  unrighteous.  On  the  other 
hand,  Flannagan  thought  it  was  predestined 
on  account  of  his  natural  gifts.  As  for  me, 
I  had  my  doubts. 

But  Stevey  Todd  wouldn't  stay  with  the 
show  after  that.  We  went  on  east,  and  left 
him  here,  boarding  at  Pemberton's.  He 


282      Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd 

said  he  liked  Pemberton's  and  would  stay 
there  a  bit.  I  says,  "  There's  good  points  in 
a  quiet  life,  Stevey ;  "  and  Stevey  Todd  says, 
showing  what  was  on  his  mind: 

"  Aye,  but  Abe  Dalrimple,  he  argues  mat 
rimony  ain't  quiet,  and  I  don't  go  so  far  as 
to  dispute  he  may  be  right,  and  that's  a 
point  to  be  allowed,  for  she  throwed  Monte- 
zuma's  crown,  not  to  speak  of  spears." 

"  Didn't  neither,"  says  Abe  Dalrimple. 
"  It  was  kettles.  It  wa'n't  none  of  them 
things,"  he  says,  alluding  at  Mrs.  Dalrimple. 

But  as  to  Madame  Bill,  she  was  tropical, 
but  not  balmy,  and  matrimony  that  wasn't 
balmy  wouldn't  have  been  good  for  Stevey 
Todd. 

"  But,"  says  Stevey  Todd,  "  as  to  her  lean 
ings  to  me  and  intentions  pursuant,"  he  says, 
"  I'd  argue  it,  as  shown  by  actions  previous." 

It  was  Pemberton  told  me  Madge  Mc- 
Culloch  was  dead.  She  died  ten  years  back, 
about  the  time  I  was  leaving  the  Pacific.  He 
told  me  she  left  a  daughter  grown  up  since, 


Flannagan  and  Stevey  Todd      283 

and  that  Andrew  McCulloch  was  an  irri 
tated  man  by  nature. 

I  went  on  with  the  show,  but  I  kept 
thinking  of  a  quiet  life,  and  about  Green- 
ough  and  Pemberton's,  and  about  things 
that  were  long  gone  by.  And  then,  eating 
other  victuals  than  Stevey  Todd  cooked  was 
come  to  seem  to  me  like  taking  liberties  \vith 
strangers.  Then  I  kept  wondering  if  I 
hadn't  had  enough  going  up  and  down  the 
seas.  I  says: 

"  What's  the  use  of  it?  A  man  had  best 
get  cured  of  his  restlessness  before  he  comes 
to  lie  still  for  aye,  and  that's  the  truth,"  I 
says. 

At  the  end  of  October  I  sold  out  the 
Annalee.  Flannagan  took  his  show  inland, 
and  I  came  back,  thinking  to  sit  down  at 
Pemberton's  and  get  over  being  restless. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Captain  JSucfchigbam  IDiaita  Bfcrian. 
and  /EbaDfle  /HbcCullocb  and  JBills  Corliss. 
Captain  :fi3ucfcingbam'6  narrative 


ONE  day  I  left  Pemberton's  and  took 
the  road  to  Adrian.  It  was  an  after 
noon  in  November.  The  church  in  Adrian 
stands  on  the  edge  of  the  graveyard,  in  the 
middle  of  the  village,  and  there  I  went  about 
looking  for  the  McCulloch  lot,  and  found  it, 
and  there  was  Madge's  stone.  It's  a  flat 
grey  stone.  There's  many  more  like  it,  set 
along  on  rows.  It  seemed  a  neighbourly  sort 
of  place  to  rest  in,  if  a  man  chose,  after  a 
roaming  life.  I  stood  there  till  the  shadow 
came  along  across  the  churchyard  from  the 
church  steeple.  Then  it  grew  dusk,  and  it 
seemed  like  now  and  then  I  heard  a  bell  toll 
ing.  Aye,  it  was  like  a  bell  tolling.  It 
seemed  to  me  I  could  hear  it.  But  there  was 
no  bell. 

284 


Buckingham  Visits  Adrian      285 

Then  I  came  out  and  went  to  look  for 
Andrew  McCulloch's  house.  It  stands  north 
of  the  Green,  looking  across  the  churchyard. 
I  knocked  at  the  door,  then  I  backed  off  the 
step,  when  it  opened,  thinking  there  must  be 
a  mistake  about  the  date,  and  maybe  inscrip 
tions  on  gravestones  was  exaggerated ;  there 
was  a  girl  in  the  doorway  that  looked  and 
acted  like  Madge  Pemberton  complete. 
Moreover  an  old  seaman  falling  off  the 
doorstep  didn't  seem  to  upset  her  balmy 
calmness.  She  says : 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It's  Tom  Buckingham  come  home,"  I 
says.  "  But  I  guess  you're  the  next  genera 
tion,"  and  I  asked  for  Andrew  McCul- 
loch. 

He's  a  red-faced  man  with  short  side 
whiskers,  a  chunky,  fussy,  and  hot-tempered 
man,  but  whether  Madge  Pemberton  had 
managed  him,  or  whether  he'd  worn  her  out, 
I  couldn't  make  up  my  mind  about  the  like 
lihood.  I  sat  a  while  talking  with  him,  and 


286     Buckingham  Visits  Adrian 

watching  Madge  McCulloch,  his  daughter, 
lay  the  tea  table.  I  thought  how  I'd  give 
something  to  get  her  to  lay  the  tea  table  for 
me  as  a  habit,  and  I  didn't  see  how  that  was 
likely  to  come  about. 

Andrew  McCulloch  appeared  to  think 
most  people  in  Adrian  would  be  more  to  his 
mind  if  buried  with  epitaphs  describing  them 
accurate. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  when  I  came  out 
and  started  for  Pemberton's.  I  came  past 
McCulloch's  fence,  and  heard  some  one  speak 
near  by,  and  there  was  a  man  sitting  on  the 
top  rail  near  the  corner.  It  was  considerable 
dark. 

"  Been  in  to  see  King  Solomon?  "  he  says. 

"What's  that?"  I  says. 

"Major  General  McCulloch,"  he  says. 
"  Why,  I  believe  you  stayed  to  tea !  Why, 
I  haven't  fetched  that  in  thre,e  months  I " 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh,"  he  says,  "  why,  you  see,  the  vener 
able  ecclesiastic  he's  afraid  I'd  want  to  come 


Buckingham  Visits  Adrian      287 

to  breakfast  too.  He  thinks  I  am  a  grass 
hopper  and  a  burden." 

I  thought  it  looked  like  a  promising  con 
versation,  and  climbed  on  the  fence  beside 
him,  and  took  a  look  at  him  in  the  star 
light. 

He  said  his  name  was  "  Billy  Corliss," 
and  explained  why  he  sat  on  the  fence.  He 
said  it  was  on  account  of  Andrew  McCulloch. 
He  said  he  and  Madge  McCulloch  were 
agreed,  but  Andrew  McCulloch  wasn't 
agreeable.  That  was  partly  because  Andrew 
wanted  Madge  to  stay  where  she  was,  partly 
because  Corliss  had  no  assets  or  prospects, 
and  partly  because  Andrew  had  an  unreason 
able  low  opinion  of  him,  as  a  roaming  and 
unsettled  sort.  He  spoke  of  Andrew  by  va 
rious  and  soaring  names,  implying  a  high 
opinion  of  him,  and  especially  in  speaking 
of  Andrew's  warm  temper,  his  respect  got 
remarkable.  He'd  call  him  maybe,  "  St. 
Peter,"  in  that  connection,  or  maybe  "  Sitting 
Bull."  For  candour,  and  opening  his  mind, 


288      Buckingham  Visits  Adrian 

and  asking  the  world  for  sympathy,  I  took 
him  to  be  given  that  way.  He  said  the  town 
of  Adrian  was  divided  into  two  parties  on 
the  subject  of  him,  and  Madge,  and  Andrew 
McCulloch,  so  I  took  it  Andrew's  temper 
had  had  some  reasonable  exercise. 

"  St.  Peter's  got  a  good  run  of  warm 
language,"  he  says,  "  but  his  fence  is  chilly. 
He's  got  a  toothache  in  his  shoes,  he  has, 
that  man." 

"Why  don't  you  elope?"  I  says. 

"  That's  the  trouble,"  he  says.  "  When  I 
ask  Madge,  *  Why  not?'  she  says,  *  Where 
to?'  I'd  been  thinking  I'd  take  a  look 
around  the  world  and  see." 

"  Don't  you  do  it,"  I  says.  "  When  you 
get  around  the  other  side,  it's  a  long  way 
back.  It  took  me  thirty  years." 

"  You  don't  mean  it !  "  he  says.  "  Why, 
that  wouldn't  do." 

"Assets  take  time,"  I  says,  "but  you 
might  get  some  prospects." 

Then  I  fell  to  thinking  how  it  could  come 


Buckingham  Visits  Adrian      289 

about  that  Madge  McCulloch  might  get  into 
the  habit  of  making  tea  for  me,  seeing  I 
was  too  old  to  marry  her,  besides  her  being 
spoken  for.  Then  I  thought  she  might  do 
it  by  keeping  a  hotel,  and  I  says : 

"  Speaking  of  keeping  hotels " 

"Who's  speaking  of  it?" 

"  I  am.     I  kept  a  hotel  once." 

"Seaside?"  he  says. 

"  No.     Inland  a  bit." 

"Summer  hotel?" 

"  Aye,  summer  hotel.  Always  summer 
there." 

"  Why,  she  must  have  paid !  " 

;;  Aye,  she  paid.  She  was  put  up  in  New 
Bedford."  I  says,  "  and  run  in  South  Amer 
ica." 

"You  don't  mean  it!" 

"  It's  a  good  business  if  tended  to,"  I 
says.  "  But  you  don't  tend  to  business,  you 
don't.  That's  the  trouble  with  you.  That 
hotel  fell  into  the  river  more'n  twenty  years 
ago,  and  it  ain't  to  the  point,  but  here  Madge 


290      Buckingham  Visits  Adrian 

McCulloch's  been  jerking  the  window  shade 
up  and  down  like  she  had  something  on  her 
mind." 

"  It's  a  signal/'  he  says,  and  with  that  he 
dropped  off  and  disappeared  toward  the  back 
of  the  house.  He  left  me  on  the  fence. 

I  thought  of  the  four  men  that  had  stood 
by  me  most  in  my  time ;  now  one  was  a  miser 
and  smuggler,  and  got  himself  hung ;  and  one 
was  a  thief,  and  died  of  a  split  wishbone,  on 
what  he  called  "  a  throne ; "  and  one  was  a 
fighter  and  gambler  and  poet,  and  he  had  a 
heavy  fist,  and  he  turned  remorseful  into  a 
Burmese  monk;  and  one  was  Stevey  Todd. 
And  Madge  Pemberton  thought  at  one  time 
I  was  all  right,  but  she  was  wrong  there. 
And  I  thought  how  here  was  Andrew  and 
another  Madge,  and  here  was  Billy  Corliss, 
and  here  was  the  world  galloping  along 
lively.  I  couldn't  but  admire  the  way  it  was 
so  made  as  to  keep  going,  and  me  thinking 
it  had  come  pretty  near  to  a  standstill. 

By-and-by,   Corliss  and  Madge  McCul- 


Buckingham  Visits  Adrian      291 

loch  came  across  the  yard  from  the  back  of 
the  house,  and  climbed  on  the  fence,  and 
Madge  hooked  her  feet  on  the  lower  rail 
and  talked  cheerful.  They  spread  out  what 
was  on  their  minds  pretty  confident.  I  never 
knew  a  couple  so  open-minded. 

"  Billy  wants  to  run  away,"  she  says,  "  but 
he  doesn't  know  where  to  yet,  unless  it's  to 
be  a  summer  hotel  in  South  America  that 
fell  into  a  river.  He  thinks  it  was  an  in 
teresting  hotel,"  she  says.  "  Do  you  think 
it  would  be  nice?  But  how  would  we  get 
there?" 

"It's  wrong  side  up  now,"  I  says;  and 
Billy  Corliss  says,  "  Why,  there's  a  chance 
for  housekeeping  ingenious !  Let's  be  social ! 
'  Sure  Mike ! '  says  the  dowager  duchess, 
wishing  to  be  democratic.  Why,  look 
here!  "  he  says.  "  What  right's  a  chimney 
got  to  be  haughty  over  a  cellar  ?  " 

"  Oh,  keep  still,  Billy! "  says  Madge  Mc- 
Culloch,  and  he  closed  up,  sudden  but  cheer 
ful,  as  if  he'd  been  hit  by  a  kettle. 


292     Buckingham  Visits  Adrian 

I  said  I  wouldn't  recommend  the  Helen 
Mar  now,  but  I'd  recommend  hotel  keeping 
as  a  good  and  sociable  business. 

"For,"  I  says,  "  the  seaman  travels  around 
the  world  seeking  profit  and  entertainment, 
but  the  hotel  keeper  sits  at  home  comfortable, 
and  they  come  to  him.  I've  been  a  hotel- 
keeper  in  South  America,"  I  says,  "  and 
might  have  been  one  in  Greenough  for  the 
asking.  I  chose  to  be  a  seaman,  and  take  a 
look  around  the  world,  being  foolish  and 
curious.  Now,  that  was  a  mistake,  for  the 
man  that  bides  in  his  place  for  the  main  of 
his  life,  has  the  best  of  it.  He  knows  as 
much  of  the  world  as  another;  for  if  a  man 
goes  romping  and  roaming,  and  knows  no 
neighbours  and  no  family  of  his  own,  why, 
sure  there's  a  deal  of  the  world  that  he  never 
knows.  That's  the  moral  of  me,"  I  says, 
"  that's  the  moral  of  me.  Now,  as  to  hotel 
keeping,"  I  says,  "  I  liked  that  business  as 
well  as  anything  I  ever  did.  I  liked  it  well," 
I  says,  and  I  looked  around  both  sides  of 


Buckingham  Visits  Adrian      293 

me,  and  stopped,  for  no  Madge  and  no  Billy 
Corliss  was  sitting  on  the  fence.  Nothing 
there  but  lonesome  sections  of  fence. 

"  Why,"  I  says,  "  here's  an  open-minded 
couple.  And  it's  an  energetic  couple.  Where 
in  the  nation  did  it  go  to  ?  " 

Then  I  saw  Andrew  McCulloch  coming 
down  from  the  front  door  to  the  gate,  but 
he  turned  to  the  right  at  the  gate,  and  went 
stumping  away  up  the  street,  and  Madge 
and  Billy  Corliss  got  up  from  crouching  be 
side  the  fence,  and  Madge  says : 

"  Let's  go  in  and  get  warm." 

And  I  says  to  myself,  "  It's  a  couple 
that's  got  good  sense,  too,"  for  Andrew's 
fence  was  chilly. 

We  went  in  the  house  and  sat  down  by 
the  stove. 

"As  to  hotel  keeping,"  I  says,  "  I've 
talked  that  over  with  Pemberton,  and  Stevey 
Todd,  who  was  the  man  that  run  the  emi 
grant  hotel  with  me,  and  Pemberton' s  agree 
able,  and  Stevey  Todd  don't  argue  against 


294     Buckingham  Visits  Adrian 

it.  I've  been  thinking  of  building  on  to  Pem- 
berton's,  and  making  a  big  summer  hotel. 
It  stands  in  sight  of  the  sea,  and  it's  a  likely 
spot.  Now,"  I  says,  "hotel  keeping  is  a  com 
bination  of  hospitality  and  profit.  The  se 
cret  of  it  is  advertising  and  a  peaceable  mind 
to  take  things  as  they  come.  A  good  hotel 
keeper  is  a  moderate  man.  He  sees  folks 
coming  and  going  from  day  to  day,  and  how 
many  does  he  see  as  comfortable  as  himself  ? 
Hotel  keeping  is  a  good  life,  you  can  take 
my  word." 

Then  there  was  a  noise  in  the  hall  out 
side,  but  I  went  on : 

"  It's  a  good  life,"  I  says,  and  I  looked 
around  on  both  sides  of  me,  and  I  saw  no 
Madge  McCulloch  and  no  Billy  Corliss. 
Nothing  but  empty  chairs,  and  two  open 
doors  behind  me. 

I  says,  "  That's  a  singular  coincidence." 

By  the  noise  in  the  hall  I  judged  Andrew 
McCulloch  wras  come  back  unexpected,  and 
J  judged  he  might  come  in  ambitious  and 


Buckingham  Visits  Adrian      295 

inquiring,  and  not  easy  to  take  as  he  came. 
I  started  for  the  open  doors,  and  got  through 
one  of  them  hasty,  and  shut  it  behind.  It 
was  soon  enough  to  escape  Andrew,  and  too 
soon  to  see  if  it  was  the  right  door.  It  was 
dark  there  except  for  the  starlight  through 
a  window,  showing  crockery  on  shelves.  The 
place  was  no  more  than  a  pantry. 

I've  been  in  different  circumstances  by 
sea  and  land,  but  I  didn't  recollect  at  that 
moment  ever  being  planted  in  just  those,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  a  couple,  that  could  plant  an 
experienced  seaman  that  way  must  be  in 
genious  as  well  as  open-minded.  I  heard 
Andrew  McCulloch  talking  to  himself  like 
the  forerunnings  of  an  earthquake,  and  I 
says: 

"  An  experienced  seaman  might  get  out, 
but  not  that  way.  Experienced  seamen  don't 
put  off  on  the  windward  side.  But,"  I  says, 
"  it  seems  to  me  experience  and  ingenuity 
could  keep  a  hotel." 

With  that  I  put  up  the  window  softly 


296     Buckingham  Visits  Adrian 

and  climbed  out  and  dropped  to  the  ground. 
I  went  round  the  house  looking  for  ingenious 
couples,  and  then  across  the  yard,  and  there 
they  sat  on  the  same  fence,  with  their  feet 
hooked  as  previous,  and  they  appeared  to 
feel  calm  and  candid. 

"  As  to  hotel  keeping,"  I  says,  climbing 

on  the  fence,  "it's  a  good  life, "  and 

there  I  stopped. 

I  looked  over  at  the  old  churchyard  on 
the  Green.  It  was  dark  and  still  over  there. 
The  rows  of  flat  tombstones  were  grey,  like 
planted  ghosts.  "  Hie  Jacet  "  means  "  here 
lies,"  as  I'm  told.  Those  folks  that  once 
got  their  "  Hie  jacets  "  over  them  would 
n't  ever  get  up  to  argue  the  statement;  but 
those  that  left  good  memories  behind,  I 
guessed  they  were  glad  of  it.  As  for  the  liv 
ing,  if  they  were  elderly,  they'd  best  go  to 
bed.  With  that  I  got  down  from  the  fence. 
.  "  Madge,"  I  says,  "  do  you  know  why 
I'm  backing  you?" 

"  Yes,"  she  says,  "  I  know." 


Buckingham  Visits  Adrian      297 

How  the  nation  did  she  know? 

"  Happen  Billy  Corliss  may  ,want  to  run 
away  still,"  I  says,  "  and  maybe  you'll  be 
asking,  '  Where  to  ?  '  and  maybe  he'll  re 
mark,  '  Pemberton's.'  Then  if  you  and  he 
should  drop  into  Pemberton's  most  any  time, 
with  a  notion  of  connubiality,  I  guess  likely 
he'd  have  prospects  to  modify  Andrew  Mc- 
Culloch  with  afterward,  '  Pemberton's  sea 
side  Hotel.  Peaceful  Patronage  Welcome. 
No  Earthquakes  nor  Revolutions  Allowed/  ' 

Then  I  left  them  on  the  fence  and  came 
back  to  Greenough. 


CHAPTER  XV 
Conclusion  ot  tbe  "Cdbole 

WHEN  Captain  Buckingham  ended,  it 
was  late  and  dark,  the  afternoon 
long  gone  into  evening.  The  storm  still 
roared  around  Pemberton's,  and  we  five  sat 
anchored  close  to  the  chimney.  It  might 
have  been  a  quarter  of  an  hour  went  by,  and 
it  was  past  time  when  Pemberton  or  Stevey 
Todd  should  be  getting  the  supper  ready, 
when  there  came  a  sudden  tumult  in  the  hall 
without,  and  some  one  bounced  in,  the  snow 
flying  after  him,  and  he  cried,  "  I've  eloped 
and  I  want  a  minister ! "  That  was  how  he 
stated  it :  "  I've  eloped  and  I  want  a  min 
ister!" 

Then  Pemberton  said: 

"  I  dare  say  now  you're  right  there,"  and 
Captain  Buckingham  said  nothing,  nor 

looked  up. 

398 


Conclusion  of  the  Whole      299 

I  knew  it  must  be  Billy  Corliss,  though 
I  didn't  know  him,  nor  did  Uncle  Abimelech, 
nor  Stevey  Todd.  He  might  have  blown 
down  from  Labrador,  or  eloped  out  of  Nova 
Scotia. 

Pemberton  and  Corliss  went  out  together. 
Then  Stevey  Todd  spoke  up  cautiously : 

"  When  I  look  at  it,"  he  said,  "  when  I 
asks  myself:  *  Is  he  right  or  is  he  not? '  I 
don't  hear  no  objections.  And  further,"  he 
said,  leaning  forward  and  speaking  low, 
"  it's  my  opinion  there's  a  woman  out 
there." 

Uncle  Abimelech  lifted  his  eyes  from  the 
kettle  that  hung  over  the  fire,  and  stared 
about  and  seemed  to  be  alarmed. 

"  Where?  "  said  Uncle  Abimelech. 

Stevey  Todd  pointed  over  his  shoulder 
with  his  thumb.  Uncle  Abimelech  followed 
the  direction  slowly  along  the  dark  ceiling, 
and  seeing  nothing  alarming  there,  seemed 
relieved.  He  turned  back  to  the  fire  and 
muttered: 


300      Conclusion  of  the  Whole 

"  She  throwed  kettles,  some." 

Then  Corliss  came  in  again  and  after  him 
Pemberton,  and  with  them  was  a  tall  girl  in 
layers  of  cloaks  and  veils,  and  layers  of  snow, 
which  being  taken  off,  she  came  out  as  balmy 
and  calm  as  a  tropic  coast,  and  enough  to 
make  a  man  forget  his  old  troubles  and  lay 
in  new  ones.  Captain  Buckingham  only 
looked  at  her,  and  said  nothing. 

Corliss  was  a  slim  young  man  with  a  can 
did  manner.  For  two  that  had  run  away 
to  look  for  matrimony  in  the  snow  they  both 
seemed  remarkably  calm.  He  looked  us 
over,  and  inquired  our  names,  and  appeared 
to  be  satisfied  with  them,  and  to  like  the 
looks  of  us. 

"  Why,  that's  good,"  he  said.  "  Now,  Miss 
Madge  McCulloch  is  Mr.  Pemberton' s  grand 
daughter,  as  you  likely  know,  and  she's  am 
bitious  to  be  Mrs.  Billy  Corliss.  That's  a 
good  idea,  isn't  it?  But  there  are  parental 
objections,  hot  but  reasonable.  Parent  has 
no  sort  of  an  opinion  of  me,  and  wants  her  to 


Conclusion  of  the  Whole      301 

run  parental  establishment.  Both  reason 
able,  aren't  they?  "  he  said  in  his  candid  way. 
Madge  McCulloch  was  kneeling  before  the 
fire  and  warming  her  hands.  She  looked  up 
and  laughed. 

"  You'd  better  hurry,  Billy,  or  the  minister 
will  be  snowed  in." 

"  Why,  that's  reasonable,  too,"  he  said, 
"  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  those  reasons, 
as  stated,  were  warm;"  and  he  once  more 
went  out  with  Pemberton. 

After  a  time  she  laughed  again. 

"  If  daddy  should  come  here,  what  do  you 
think  would  happen  ? "  and  she  looked  at 
Captain  Buckingham,  who  looked  at  her  and 
said  nothing,  his  thin  brown  face  as  still  as 
an  Indian's. 

Stevey  Todd  said  cautiously : 

"  I'd  almost  think,  Miss,  in  that  case, 
you'd  be  in  hot  water." 

"It's  in  the  kettle,"  said  Uncle  Abime- 
lech,  and  Madge  McCulloch,  "  So  it  is!  I 
wonder  if  there's  tea." 


302      Conclusion  of  the  Whole 

Then  she  and  Stevey  Todd  laid  the  table, 
and  we  sat  watching  her  make  tea,  and  saw 
no  objections. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  about  it?"  she  said 
calmly,  pouring  tea. 

"  If  so  be  it's  agreeable,  Miss,"  said  Stevey 
Todd ;  and  Uncle  Abimelech  said,  "  I  takes 
no  sugar  in  mine,"  but  Captain  Tom  was 
silent. 

She  said  she  had  run  out  of  the  back  door 
before  it  was  beginning  to  grow  dusk,  and 
climbed  the  fence  and  gotten  into  Corliss' 
sleigh,  but  she  was  afraid  they  were  seen  by 
neighbours;  so  that  it  appeared  likely  An 
drew  McCulloch  would  hear  about  their  go 
ing.  "  He  might  come  after  by-and-by,  and 
do  something  that  would  be  very  hot, — 
Wouldn't  it?" 

Stevey  Todd  said,  "  It  might  be  as  you 
say,  Miss,"  and  Uncle  Abimelech,  "  It's 
better  when  it's  hot,"  looking  into  his  tea 
cup  as  if  disappointed,  but  Captain  Tom 
said  nothing. 


Conclusion  of  the  Whole      303 

"  It  was  snowing  and  drifting,"  she  went 
on,  "  and  we  kept  falling  into  ditches,  but  at 
last  we  saw  the  light  of  the  hotel  by  the 
roadside  and  were  glad." 

So  Billy  Corliss  had  come  and  bounced 
at  the  door,  and  said  he  wanted  a  minister, 
and  quite  right  he  was  with  respect  to 
those  circumstances  and  Madge  McCulloch, 
as  Stevey  Todd  hinted,  though  cautiously. 

When  Pemberton  and  Corliss  came  back 
with  the  minister,  it  was  clear  that  Pember 
ton  agreed  with  Stevey  Todd  on  that  point. 
It  may  be  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  agreeing 
with  Andrew  McCulloch.  Certainly  he  gave 
Madge  McCulloch  away  in  marriage  to  Billy 
Corliss.  And  she,  saying  that  she  wanted  a 
maid-of-honour,  chose  Uncle  Abimelech  for 
that  purpose,  which  seemed  scarcely  reason 
able,  but  the  minister  married  them  and  went 
his  way.  Then  Stevey  Todd  could  not  get 
over  thinking  he  would  have  been  a  better 
maid-of-honour  than  Uncle  Abimelech,  more 
suitable  and  more  according  to  the  talents  of 


304      Conclusion  of  the  Whole 

each,  and  he  said  this,  though  indirectly  and 
warily;  and  Uncle  Abimelech  said  that  he 
recollected  licking  Stevey  Todd  thirty  years 
back  on  the  Hebe  Maitland,  "  took  him  across 
his  knee  and  whaled  him  good ;"  and  Stevey 
Todd,  though  cautiously,  seemed  to  hint  that 
some  one  who  might  be  Abe  Dalrimple, 
couldn't  do  it  again,  and  in  other  respects 
resembled  a  dry  codfish.  Billy  Corliss  stood 
up  and  said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  the  elements  are  raging. 
In  the  town  of  Adrian  the  ear  of  imagina 
tion  detects  explosions.  But  Pemberton's 
is  dedicated  to  peace  and  connubial ity." 

Then  they  retired  with  their  connubiality, 
and  paid  us  no  more  attention,  and  Pember- 
ton,  Captain  Buckingham,  Stevey  Todd,  Un 
cle  Abimelech,  and  I  sat  by  the  fire. 

Uncle  Abimelech  seemed  to  have  some 
thing  on  his  mind  that  he  would  like  to  get 
off,  for  his  eyes  wandered  uneasily,  and  he 
muttered : 

"  Kettles." 


Conclusion  of  the  Whole      305 

"  Throwed  'em,  did  she?"  said  Pember- 
ton  to  encourage  him,  and  Uncle  Abimelech 
said: 

"  Some,"  and  cast  his  eyes  and  jerked 
his  thumb  vaguely  upward,  toward  the  ceil 
ing, 

"  If  she  tfifows  'em  at  him — Aye " 

He  struggled  with  the  thought,  bringing  it 
slowly  out  of  dim  recesses  to  the  light.  "  She 
ought  to  pour  the  bilin'  off  first.  It  ain't 
right." 

Silence  fell  over  us  again.  At  last  Cap 
tain  Tom  said: 

"  Supposing  a  man  is  loose-jointed  in  his 
mind,  like  Abe,  or  Billy  Corliss  a  trifle,  and 
gets  took  back  of  the  ear  with  something 
hard,  that  steadies  him,  it's  no  great  harm  if 
it's  warm." 

"  She  ought  to  pour  off  the  bilin',  "  said 
Uncle  Abimelech  uneasily. 

After  that  we  sat  for  a  while,  each  taken 
with  his  own  thoughts,  until  Pemberton  was 
knocking  out  his  pipe,  like  one  approaching 


306      Conclusion  of  the  Whole 

the  idea  of  a  night's  rest,  when  there  came  a 
noise  in  the  outer  hall,  and  the  wind  blew 
snow  under  the  crack  below  the  inner  door. 
Some  one  bounced  into  the  room  like  a  storm. 
He  was  a  short,  thickset  man  with  white 
side  whiskers,  and  looked  like  an  infuriated 
Santa  Claus,  for  he  was  covered  with  snow. 

"  Most  miserable,  infernal,  impossible 
night  ever  made,  Mr.  Pemberton!  Forty 

thousand  devils Ah!  Give  me  some 

of  that,  hot !  Detestable  night !  " 

"  It  is  so,  Andrew,"  said  Pemberton, 
soothing  and  agreeable.  "  You're  near 
right." 

"As  referring  to  weather,"  said  Stevey 
Todd,  "  though  not  putting  it  so  strong,  you 
might " 

But  the  newcomer  broke  in,  and  beat  the 
table  with  his  fist. 

"Weather!  No!  Not  weather.  Mr.  Pem 
berton,  I'll  tell  you  what's  the  matter.  Here's 
my  daughter  run  away  to  be  married  with 
the  coolest,  freshest,  limber- tongued  young 


Conclusion  of  the  Whole      307 

codfish  that  ever  escaped  salting.  Not  if  I 
know  it!  Til  salt  him!  I'll  pickle  him!  I 
will,  if  my  name's  McCulloch." 

He  puffed  hard,  and  sat  down.  Stevey 
Todd  looked  at  Andrew  McCulloch,  then  he 
looked  at  the  others  and  winked  cautiously, 
and  Pemberton  winked  back.  But  Cap 
tain  Tom  did  not  look  up.  Uncle  Abime- 
lech  too  kept  his  eyes  on  the  fire.  He  seemed 
to  be  following  his  old  train  of  thought, 
which  Andrew  McCulloch's  coming  had 
started  again  in  his  mind,  for  he  began: 

"  Before  I  was  married,  her  mother  she 
used  to  throw  kettles  at  me.  They  was  ket 
tles,"  he  said  bitterly,  "  with  spouts  and 
handles.  Aye,  afterwrard  she  did  too, 
some." 

Andrew  McCulloch  puffed  and  looked  sur 
prised  and  Pemberton  said : 

"Ran  in  the  family?" 

"  Aye.  Then  she  come  across  the  bay  in 
a  rowboat,  and  I  was  diggin'  clams,  and  she 
says.  '  If  you  dasn't  come  to  the  house, 


308      Conclusion  of  the  Whole 

what  dast  you  do  ?  '  I  see  the  minister  down 
the  beach,  diggin'  clams,  an'  he  had  eleven 
children,  he  had,  diggin'  clams,  and  she 
looked  at  him  too,  and  I  says,  '  I  das'  say 
he'd  rather'n  dig  clams.'  We  went  fishin' 
afterward,  and  got  eight  barrel  o'  herring." 

"  You  don't  say !  "  says  Andrew  McCul- 
loch,  puffing  and  looked  surprised. 

Uncle  Abimelech  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  kettle  and  wandered  away  in  his  mind. 
Then  Captain  Tom  roused  himself,  and 
spoke  thoughtfully. 

"  It  was  different  with  me,"  he  said.  "  Her 
parents  wanted  another  one.  He  was  richer, 
but  nowise  so  good-looking.  I  says  to  her, 
'  Cut  and  run ! '  but  she  wouldn't,  as  being 
undutiful.  She  took  him.  His  name  was 
Jones.  He  went  bankrupt,  and  got  paral 
ysis,  and  is  living  still.  Her  parents  died  in 
different  poorhouses." 

Pemberton  looked  surprised  at  this  too, 
and  then  thoughtful,  and  then  he  winked  at 
Stevey  Todd,  who  passed  it  back. 


Conclusion  of  the  Whole      309 

"  I  got  my  wife  out  of  the  back  window  of 
a  boarding  school,  second  story,"  said  Pem- 
berton.  "  She  came  down  the  blinds."  And 
he  wiped  his  face  with  his  coat  sleeve. 

*'  Mine  came  through  the  cellar,"  said 
Stcvey  Todd.  "  She  brought  a  pot  of  jam 
in  her  pocket,  or  else,"  he  added  cautiously. 
"  or  else  it  was  pickles.  It  might've  been 
pickles,  but  it  runs  in  my  mind  it  was 
jam." 

But  Pemberton's  wife  had  been  a  widow 
first,  as  he  once  told  me,  and  Captain 
Tom's  and  Stevey  Todd's  romances  didn't 
run  that  way,  by  accounts.  But  as  to  Uncle 
Abimelech,  it  may  be  what  he  said  was  true. 

They  all  fell  silent  again,  except  Andrew 
McCulloch,  who  whistled :  "  Whew,  whew, 
whew ! "  and  pulled  his  whiskers,  now  this 
one  and  that,  and  said : 

"Bless  my  soul!  You  don't  mean  it!" 
and  fidgeted  in  his  chair.  "  I  didn't  suppose 
it  was  so  usual,  I  didn't!  God  bless  my 
soul !  " 


3 1  o      Conclusion  of  the  Whole 

"  It's  their  nature,"  said  Captain  Bucking 
ham  at  length.  "  They're  made  that  way." 

"You  don't  mean  it!" 

"  The  best  thing  for  'em  is  hotel  keeping." 

"Eh!" 

"  Nothing  like  it,  you  can  take  my  word. 
'  Pemberton's  Hotel.  Pemberton  and  Buck 
ingham,  Owners  and  Proprietors.  B.  Cor 
liss,  Manager.  Peace,  Propriety,  and  Pa 
tronage.'  Aye,  that's  it.  They  get  restless. 
If  they  elopes,  let  'em  keep  a  hotel.  Nothing 
like  it." 

"  Whew,  whew !  "  whistled  Andrew  Mc- 
Culloch.  "  But  they've  gone !  "  he  says. 
"  See  here !  How  you  going  to  catch  'em  ? 
How  you  going  to  set  'em  to  hotel  keeping 
when  they  elope  off  your  hands  ?  Where' ve 
they  gone?  That's  the  point.  Where' ve 
they  gone  ?  " 

"  Up,"  said  Uncle  Abimelech. 

"Eh!" 

"  Connubilated,"  said  Uncle  Abimelech, 
pointing.  "  Gone  up." 


Conclusion  of  the  Whole      311 

"  Prayed  over  fifteen  minutes,"  said 
Stevey  Todd,  "  which  I  wouldn't  so  state 
without  watching  the  clock." 

"What!"  cried  Andrew  McCulloch. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  you  aided  and  abetted, 
Mr.  Pemberton " 

"  Peace  and  connubiality  was  his  last 
words,"  went  on  Stevey  Todd,  following  his 
train  of  thought.  "  Peace  and  connubiality, 
he  says,  and  he  meant  the  same." 

"  Ain't  the  same! "  said  Uncle  Abimelech. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  cried  Andrew  Mc 
Culloch 

"  Don't  throw  nothin'  till  you  pour  off  the 
bilin',"  said  Uncle  Abimelech  uneasily.  "  It 
ain't  right." 

Andrew  McCulloch  puffed,  "Whew! 
whew !  whew ! "  as  if  blowing  off  the  steam 
of  his  boiling.  Then  he  said : 

"  Give  me  some  of  that,  hot!  " 

And  we  all  fell  silent  again. 

The  kettle  sang,  the  chimney  coughed  in 
its  throat.  One  heard  outside  the  whistle 


312      Conclusion  of  the  Whole 

of  the  wind,  the  moan  of  the  surf  far  off  in 
the  night,  and  the  snow  snapping  against 
the  windows. 

The  clock  struck  ten. 


THE   END 


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